“Each day has a color, a smell.”

“The development of the human mind has practically extinguished all feelings, except a few sporadic kinds, [like] sound, colors, smells, warmth, etc., which now appear to be disconnected and separate.”

“The fresh smell of coffee soon wafted through the apartment, the smell that separates night from day.”

“We're meant for each other 'cause we smell bad.”

“Sounds are indeed like colors, and my hunger for a truer palette of colors grows day to day.”

“A book has got smell. A new book smells great. An old book smells even better. An old book smells like ancient Egypt.”

“There was the smell of old books, a smell that has a way of making all libraries seem the same. Some say that smell is asbestos.”

“1544. Fish and Guests smell at three Days old.”

“Each lost day has its patron saint!”

“The days fly by. I can smell the weekend already. The repetition of days is so boring to observe.”