“There is no scent so pleasant to my nostrils as that faint, subtle reek which comes from an ancient book.”

“I leafed through the pages, inhaling the enchanted scent of promise that comes with all new books, and stopped to read the start of a sentence that caught my eye.”

“I think there is a spiritual scent in us which feels mischief coming, as they say birds scent storms.”

“In pale moonlight / the wisteria's scent / comes from far away.”

“What joy have I in June's return?
My feet are parched—my eyeballs burn,
I scent no flowery gust;
But faint the flagging Zephyr springs,
With dry Macadam on its wings,
And turns me "dust to dust."”

“Haven't you ever happened to come across in a book some vague notion that you've had, some obscure idea that returns from afar and that seems to express completely your most subtle feelings?”

“By lamplight turn these scented leaves and read
a tale of love recorded in old books.”

“Wilson was not, in the academic sense, a scholar or historian. He was an enormous reader, one of those readers who are perpetually on the scent from book to book. He was the old-style man of letters, but galvanized and with the iron of purpose in him.”

“Kissing Simon was pleasant. It was a gentle sort of pleasant, like lying in a hammock on a summer day with a book and a glass of lemonade”

“With all of my books I’m interested in where people come from in relation to who they are…”