Nyx

“She breathed deeply of the scent of decaying fiction, disintegrating history, and forgotten verse, and she observed for the first time that a room full of books smelled like dessert: a sweet snack made of figs, vanilla, glue, and cleverness.”
― Joe Hill, NOS4A2

“The whiff of ocean on the southern breeze and the smell of burning asphalt brought back memories of summers past. It had seemed as though those sweet dreams of summer would last forever: the warmth of a girl’s skin, an old rock ‘n’ roll song, freshly washed button-down shirt, the odor of cigarette smoke in a pool changing room, a fleeting premonition. Then one summer (when had it been?) the dreams had vanished, never to return.”
― Haruki Murakami

“My healthy blood was powerless to cure the sick blood of my beloved. That was beyond understanding. And so is death.”
― Erich Maria Remarque

“I was much younger, much hungrier, much more alone. But I was myself, pared down to the essentials.”
― Haruki Murakami