“She could smell the pages. She could almost taste the words as they stacked up around her.”

“She looked at nice young men as if she could smell their stupidity.”

“Scent:
When she wore the hat, even many years later, she could always smell her mother's perfume & it was hard to remember she was supposed to be alone.”

“She places her hands around my neck and rests her head on my shoulder. I can smell the sex on her, and my hope is that she can smell the love on me.”

“She could never be a saint, but she thought she could be a martyr if they killed her quick.”

“She felt as if she bled her regret and loneliness from her very pores, and yet she could not shape those feelings into any sentiment she could imagine her parents could bear reading.”

“Almost Beyond:
She laid on my chest & her breathing filled me almost to beyond what I could hold.”

“She used to say she could taste sleep and that it was as delicious as a BLT on fresh French bread.”

“Annabeth pressed her lips to Percy’s ear. “I love you.”
She wasn’t sure he could hear her—but if they died, she wanted those to be her last words.”

“How come Mom is crazy and I'm not? Well, it's possible my mom could stand up in front of this many people and talk about all the crap in her life and those people could have sat around and laughed with her, it would've meant nothing and she could have moved on cool. It's also possible she could have taken out the whole front row with a large-caliber weapon.”