Even the air seems to have a smell - earthy and rich and complicated, made out of things living nd things dying and things long dead. The smell of the world where nothing stops moving, nothing stays the same.

Smell is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived. The odors of fruits waft me to my southern home, to my childhood frolics in the peach orchard. Other odors, instantaneous and fleeting, cause my heart to dilate joyously or contract with remembered grief. Even as I think of smells, my nose is full of scents that start awake sweet memories of summers gone and ripening fields far away.

I miss your fragrance, sometimes I miss it this much that I can clearly smell you in the air.

I seem to smell the stench of appeasement in the air.

He knew something was wrong, ... He could smell it in the air.

I never know whether to pity or congratulate a man on coming to his senses.