Kathleen Tessaro Quotes

Scent memory is incredibly personal; a very private experience.

A woman who no longer cares about how she looks has given up on more than fashion – she's given up on life.

Some of us, no matter how hard we try, aren't meant to lead ordinary lives. Fate finds us. Gives us a shove.

But Paris had been designed. Here, historical landmarks appeared graciously; evenly spaced for maximum aesthetic impact. One had only to follow from one to another to reach any destination, including the Left Bank.

Mass was like grand opera, a magic show with the most expensive props in town. And faith, a sleight of hand trick, in which one was both the magician and the audience; the deceiver and the deceived. Still, who could resist a good magic trick?

He didn't know what it was like to live between memory and regret with nothing to numb it.

People take for granted what is in fact an art. To live well, to live comfortably by one's own standards takes a certain maturity of spirit, exceptional character, truly refined taste, and - ' 'And money.

What could be more beautiful than the fact that love exists in a random universe?

I want to go to a café and sit with you. I want you to order something I've never eaten before and tease me about it. And I want to walk, anywhere, nowhere in particular, and for us to disagree.

In the silence of fragrance, Eva saw how ambiguous, complex stories could be told. Shifting and mutating, they blossomed, bloomed and faded; their very impermanence was incredibly moving to her. You could be laughing in public yet wear, right on the surface of your skin, a perfume ripe with longing, dripping with regret, shining with hope, all at the same time. It would fade as the day faded, vanishing into gossamer on your skin. And still it had the power to catch you unaware, piercing right through you, when you hung your dress up that night.

...certain smells were the custodians of memory. And once they were unleashed, their effect was instantaneous, like switching on a light – flooding the senses far too quickly and completely. They had the power to transport and overwhelm. For that reason, one needed to be wary of them.

When you are older and have swum out into the stream of life, you'll see
there are no "good" people, little girl. We're all trying and failing, trying too hard and failing too often. Remember that. We shouldn't judge too harshly, in the end, the sins of others" ...

Father Paul was at the start of life. His glassy convictions needed protection. They waited patiently until he too, succumbed to the unbearable unevenness of God's will, the sureness of his grace, the darkness of his mercy.

Love is self-serving - we do all sorts of things for our own comfort and call it love. But revenge is an intimate thing, don't you think? Would you be willing to enact another persons vengeance?

To me, chance isn't random. The universe is bound by unseen threads. We have only to untangle them a little to see the pattern unfold.

After all, if I started confiding my innermost problems to someone, I'd have to do something about them. And I'm not ready for that yet.

To sin. To miss the mark ... We try and we fail, like archers who aim for the target but fall short of the mark. When you are older and have swum out into the stream of life, you'll see- there are no 'good' people, little girl. We're all trying and failing, trying too hard and failing too often. Remember that. We shouldn't judge too harshly, in the end, the sins of others ... Sometimes I think the only things we have in common with one another are our shortcomings.

Because happiness isn't made of fun. It's made of solid, real things. It's made of paychecks and clean clothing, and hot food and healthy children, and a man who can look you in the eye when he comes home because he has nothing to hide. It's not so rare. In fact, it's so common people don't notice it. They look for roses when they should be looking for indoor plumbing." Ma,

A young woman on the cusp of her sexual awakening is a powerful creature.' She

she exuded the air of a woman used to spending her days glowing brightly at the centre of her own, personal solar system.

He was uncannily skilled at dissecting hidden meaning behind every interaction.

Easing back in her seat, Grace watched the children in the playground opposite, coats off, faces flushed, laughing hysterically with pleasure. They were so vividly alive, completely immersed in the game. She tried to recall a time when she'd been that way and realized she couldn't remember when that had been. She'd lost the knack of forgetting herself. Instead she seemed to look down on herself throughout the day, scrutinizing, judging; finding herself wanting more.

It could be argued that all perfume is born out of shame; a self-consciousness of our natural odour.

She was wearing a simple silver sheath cut within an inch of indecency, curving round her slender shoulders and then falling away to expose the smooth white skin of her back and just a hint of the soft round curve of her breasts. She had on no jewellery, only a pale wash of lipstick, and again the black halo of hair was arranged so that it looked almost wind tossed. Yet her dark tresses shone, framing her face with a soft, unearthly light. Next to the other women at the table, with their diamonds, heavy strands of pearls, and meticulously groomed faces and hair, she seemed feral and bewitching. The impact of her beauty lay in her confidence and her utter lack of self-awareness. In contrast, others appeared to be trying too hard, careful and staid.

As time went on, Eva grew to respect and even admire the eccentricities of Madame Zed. For example, rather than adapt to her surroundings, she transformed them.

She had a smooth, low voice and a naughty, shocking sense of humour. Laughter followed in her wake; she collected admirers, both male and female, simply walking across the lobby. She had a certain knack for including everyone in her own private jokes, bending in conspiratorially to say something wickedly off-colour to one of the old stone-faced dowagers waiting for a cab. The next moment, they'd both be giggling uncontrollably

You see, the truth is no one ever really falls in love with anyone but themselves. Love is a mirror; a reflective surface projecting who we wish we were. What we've all waiting for is someone to come along who will show us something new about ourselves that we can adore. And then, because someone loves us, in turn, we love ourselves. Does that make sense?

She inhaled again. 'You made it rain,' she said softly, delighted.
'Everyone needs a respite from the sun.

Thing is,' Sis confided, 'all the important people here look ordinary and the really fancy ones are usually broke or on the make. I'll tell you, you're in an upside-down world now,' she said, shaking her head. 'Takes a while, but you'll get used to it.

...I have to have some answers."

"And what if there are no answers?"

She held her ground. "Then at least I will have asked the questions.

The warm humid air of New York clung to the night, unwilling to relinquish its suffocating hold. And yet to Eva, the city had an underlying hum of possibility; a constant forward motion that promised, no matter what, that change was on its way.

I believe it's a privilege, madam. One that's earned through a certain amount of courage and adversity.

Perfume should tell a story – the story of who you are, who you might be, perhaps even of who you fear becoming…

Curiosity is the most delightful of all human characteristics
"I see. No men in her life then?"
-"Not unless you count Jack Daniels and Johnny Walkers

I'm an exceptional artist. Trapped in the body of man with no musical

There are no elegant potatoes.

I thought I could change my character as easily as I could change my coat.
But I've been searching for the right one ever since.

If you can capture a woman's imagination, then you will have her. But imagination is a strange creature. It needs time and distance to function properly.

There was a whole vocabulary of suffering, eloquent in its wordlessness, which gave voice to all the things she couldn't do or say.

Some day you will have a nemesis,' Madame warned bitterly. 'It's not easy, you know. Someone who has the ability to do everything you wish you could, but with greater ease, style, success.

We forgive not because it's easy or the right thing to do, but that the choice to forgive is in itself powerful. It's an affirmation, a willingness to take life on life's terms. And a privilege that no one can take from you. It

I'd like to live in great comfort. And peace.' And then she added, quite to her surprise, 'With no one to tell me what to do or how to do it.

Around her the tables were filling with people, tourists planning their next stop over a coffee, businessmen meeting for luncheon, well-heeled women taking a break from their sprees, leaning in to gossip with one another, shopping bags piled at their feet.

This, Mrs Munroe, is the scent of intoxication and desire. The perfume of seduction.

There are no great fanfares for the truly great moments of your life. Just dripping taps and the sound of your own footsteps, walking from one room into another

Fragrance is an aspiration. A goal. Not just a tool of seduction but of power and status.

Dorsey was out of her league. When a woman like Kay Waverley took you on over a man, you were done for. It was the scandal of the season and all of Monte Carlo agreed; poor little Dorsey wasn't handling it well.

I knew her a long time. The truth was we both had certain expectations of each other. In the end, I suppose they were too high.

Eva was assigned to learn her duties from Rita Crane, an older woman of indeterminate age and one of the world's most unsuccessful secret drinkers.

We live in a disposable world. There's no point in investing yourself too heavily.
Love doesn't fix anything ... it destroys more than it fixes. and when the dust has settled, it's just an afterthought. Lives still get ruined, people still leave, and life goes on and on and on.
the first forty-eight hours are the worst. the ego's taken a bit of a kicking. what you need is a constant supply of alcohol.
today was a day for taking tranquilizers washed down by vodka.

[...] I look in the mirror every day, when I brush my teeth or wash my face or comb my hair. It's just I tend to look at myself in pieces and avoid joining them up all together. I don't know why; it just feels safer that way.

But tonight I force myself to look at the whole thing. And suddenly I see how the bits and pieces add up to someone I'm not familiar with, someone I never intended to be.

She'd always heard that Paris was elegant but had struggled to imagine how. She'd assumed it would be rigid; the demanding intolerance of perfection. But, being here, she was struck by the easy naturalness of everything. From the tall, slender trees, their leaves rustling high above her, to the chalky gravel that crunched beneath her feet or the classically proportioned buildings that rose, uniformly constructed from the same blonde stone, it was all orchestrated to hold the light. The entire city was enveloped in a halo of glowing softness.

Are we at war with fate?

Men are forced to resort to ridiculous displays of bravado in front of women.

What a shock it had been when she began to grow invisible to men and they no longer registered her. How humiliating to discover time had abducted her favorite version of herself and replaced it with a saggy middle-aged woman instead.

She tore off a piece of baguette; it was both crusty and soft, still warm in the centre. It was amazing how something so simple, so basic could be this delicious.

You see, nothing is more immediate, more complete than the sense of smell. In an instant, it has the power to transport you. Your olfactory sense connects not to the memory itself, but to the emotion you felt when that memory was made. To recreate a scent memory is one of the most challenging, eloquent pursuits possible. It's poetry, in its most immediate form.

In every book she'd ever read, the heroine was subject to self-doubt and unjust criticism. And in every case, it only served to harden their resolve.

Climbing the steps to the hotel, Grace paused, taking a long look at Paris, in all its shimmering, enigmatic elegance, wearing the nigh as a beautiful woman wears diamonds.

If you cannot fit into the mould, then you must step out of it,

Innocence, like virginity, is more fun to lose than to keep.' 'Both are quite expensive, sir.

Men don't like clever wives, they like charming ones!

Life is, after all, a sensual experience. Our senses have the power to truly transport us but also to ground us. Make us human.