Scented Candles Quotes

I can stay in the bath for, well, the longest has been seven or eight hours. I get completely set up with my laptop so I can watch 'The Sopranos,' put out some scented candles, music. I have a towel nearby so I can dry my hand to change the music or the TV. I make a little heaven for myself. And then I just refill and refill. ~ Suki Waterhouse

Not just in America. When I left my primary school, my father said, 'Son, you are now a man,' then he gave me a scented candle and told me how babies are made." Vik fought to keep his lips from twitching. ~ S.J. Kincaid

Define seduction.
Skimpy clothes. Lap dances. Sucking the red off a cherry lollipop.
I don't want to be a skank about it.
Look, sweetie. Obviously the nice girl, can-we-move-to-the-next-level-but-only-when-you're-ready routine has not worked. What you need is guns blazing, no-holds barred seduction. You need to stop approaching this so meekly and take control of the situation. You need to set the atmosphere. Scented candles. Lingerie. Wine. Dinner. Handcuffs.
Handcuffs? Really?
You don't want him to run, do you?
I worry about you sometimes.
Why do you think Lance has stuck around for so long?
Because you keep him chained to your bed?
That's not the point. ~ Em Wolf

I start lighting pine-scented candles the day after Halloween. ~ Mary Page Keller

This isn't lust. Lust wants, does the obvious, and pads back into the forest. Love is greedier. Love wants round-the-clock care; protection; rings, vows, joint accounts; scented candles on birthdays; life insurance. Babies. Love's a dictator. ~ David Mitchell

Stories never told,
disappeared in the dawn mist
and sunset blaze.
Like a movie kiss,
not real,
but still overwhelms and entices lustfulness,
turns me into pleasure
and a connoisseur of love.

Flying to the heavens above
followed by the yearning hope
that you will always be close to me,
that you will not disperse when
we revel in​ one another.

Secrets to be kept in one of these terracotta walls
that fade away through the dusk,
feeling the scented candles of musk,
just you and I,
two rebels of love,
that challenge the logic, the meaning, ​and sense. ~ Tatjana Ostojic

Great sex is not a pleasant soak in the tub, with the scented candle burning. Great sex is more like a bomb exploding inside your right mind. ~ Amy Bloom

At some point, economists must study the Business Family Wedding Gift Economy. It is an extraordinary, closed bubble. What happens is this: a woman marries into a conservative Indian business family. She may well be energetic and bright, but there's no place for her at work, nor can she work elsewhere. So, instead, she's urged to 'take up something'. Scented candles, usually. Sometimes kurta design. Or necklaces, or faux-Rajasthani coffee tables. She then becomes a 'success', because every other woman in the family buys her candles as wedding presents, at hideously inflated prices. In return, she buys their kurtas as wedding presents. Eventually, everyone is buying everyone else's hideous creations at hideously high prices, and nobody can ever tell anyone else their stuff sucks, and that nobody really likes the smell of lavender anyway. The most amazing thing is, this is not a very different economy from the one their husbands are in. ~ Mihir S. Sharma

His voice a rhythm like rain, words rolling over themselves...

"You are distinguished from the leaves
by the shape of your eyes.
They are whiter in color and rounder.
Except on nights like this
when the leaves are luminous...."

"Still, you are distinguished from the night–
your voice silent as candles melted
in their own pools,
used up with expression and light.... ~ Debi Cimo

Tall windows show Infinity; And, hard reality, The candles weep and pry and dance Like lives mocked at by Chance. The rooms are vast as Sleep within; When once I ventured in, Chill Silence, like a surging sea, Slowly enveloped me. ~ Edith Sitwell

Adrian: Do you smell that?"
Sydney: "I smell the paint, and ... wait ... is that pine?"
Adrian: "Damn straight. Pine-scented cleaner. As in, I cleaned. With these hands, these hands that don't do manual labor. ~ Richelle Mead

Dr. Luce introduced the concept of "periphescence". The word itself means nothing; Luce made it up to avoid any etymological associations. The state of periphescence, however, is well known. It denotes the first fever of human pair bonding. It causes giddiness, elation, a tickling on the chest wall, the urge to climb a balcony on the rope of the beloved's hair. Periphescence denotes the inital drugged and happy bedtime where you sniff your lover like a scented poppy for hours running. (It lasts, Luce explained, up to two years
tops.) ~ Jeffrey Eugenides

I love Hanukkah because it's so weird. You just sit there and light candles and say spells. ~ King Tuff

Some change at once went through them all, as if this had really happened, and they were all conscious of making a party together...; had their common cause against that fluidity out there... and now the same effect was got by the many candles in the sparely furnished room, and the uncurtained windows, and the bright mask-like look of faces seen by candlelight. Some weight was taken off them; anything might happen… ~ Virginia Woolf

Henderson sighed. There was a time, he reflected, when the coming of this night meant something. A dark Europe, groaning in superstitious fear, dedicated this Eve to the grinning Unknown. A million doors had once been barred against the evil visitants, a million prayers mumbled, a million candles lit. There was something majestic about the idea, Henderson reflected. ~ Robert Bloch

Ages ago, my girlfriend had this little park near her house, with a bridge running over a stream ... and I set up all these candles on the bridge. But when I called her and told her she said it was too dark and she wasn't coming out. ~ Harry Styles

Jacki Smith is a masterful artist of magickal candles. I've enjoyed her blend of strong magickal intentions and great smelling scents in her products. To have her wisdom in a book is a treasure! ~ Christopher Penczak

I mean, there's a lot of other things I could do for money. I could sell autographed ECT machines or rhinestoned mood stabilizers or even Star Wars scented laxatives. But do I do that? Do I do a commercial on television to (attempt to) sell a medication while running around some random backyard with some rented golden retriever laughing and looking cured and totally amazed to be so worry-free while a voice comes on and says, "Reginol is not recommended for wayward fish or Libras with dementia. If you notice swelling in your femur or notice a subtle beam of backlight glowing northward from your anus or the anus of someone you went to school with, call your doctor immediately as this could be a symptom of hydrocephalus that could lead to roughhousing and misguided bloat. Reginol is not recommended for pregnant Nazis or yodelers over seventy. Reginol does not protect you from unpopularity or autism . . . " All ~ Carrie Fisher

The putting on of vestments and lighting candles, it's a wonderful ritual that never changes from one Mass to another. ~ Liam Neeson

But then they danced down the street like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars... ~ Jack Kerouac

If Thomas Edison had gone to business school, we would all be reading by larger candles. ~ Mark McCormack

Never save bath bombs for later. Never wait for a special occasion to light candles. Don't wait to book a massage. Treat yourself to a spa day. Get yourself a colonic immediately. Now is the time. Your body is a temple. Serve it and it will serve you well. ~ RuPaul

The Room was darkened, and Rob struck a match to light candles. As the comforting scent of jasmine and vanilla lifted from the candles around him, Matty took in the dark sheets on the bed - the ones Rob liked because they showed Matty's jizz better. ~ Leta Blake

Tom has been having a difficult patch, and we meet at the church of IKEA as often as possible, because it is equidistant from our houses and always cheers us up. Yesterday I asked, 'In your depression, and with so many people having such a hard time, where is Advent?' He tried to wiggle out of it by saying, 'You Protestants and your little questions!' Then, when pushed, he said: 'Faith is a decision. Do we believe we are ultimately doomed and fucked and there's no way out? Or that God and goodness make a difference? There is heaven, community, and hope - and hope that there is life beyond the grave.'
'But Tom, at the same time, the grave is very real, dark and cold and lonely.' 'Advent is not for the naive. Because in spite of the dark and cold, we see light - you look up, or you make light, with candles, or with strands of lightbulbs on trees. And you give light. Beauty helps, in art and nature and faces. Friends help. Solidarity helps. If you ask me, when people return phone calls, it's about as good as it gets. And who knows beyond that. ~ Anne Lamott

Each spring for a period of weeks the imperial gardens were filled with prize tulips (Turkish, Dutch, Iranian), all of them shown to their best advantage. Tulips whose petals had flexed wide were held shut with fine threads hand-tied. Most of the bulbs had been grown in place, but these were supplemented by thousands of cut stems held in glass bottles; the scale of the display was further compounded by mirrors placed strategically around the garden. Each variety was marked with a label made from silver filigree. In place of every fourth flower a candle, its wick trimmed to tulip height, was set into the ground. Songbirds in gilded cages supplied the music, and hundreds of giant tortoises carrying candles on their backs lumbered through the gardens, further illuminating the display. All the guests were required to dress in colors that flattered those of the tulips. At the appointed moment a cannon sounded, the doors to the harem were flung open, and the sultan's mistresses stepped into the garden led by eunuchs bearing torches. The whole scene was repeated every night for as long as the tulips were in bloom, for as long as Sultan Ahmed managed to cling to his throne. ~ Michael Pollan

Because I am special.

For the moment that was all she had to say. There would be more, much more, but the four words were like four candles, or the arms of the Crusaders' cross she wore on her sleeve.

Because I am special.

She shut the book and began to blow out the candle, before changing her mind. She sat back in her chair, and watched it glow. ~ Debbie Viguie

There was her face, like a summer peach, beautiful and warm, and the light of the candles reflected in her dark eyes. [He] held his breath. The entire world waited and held its breath. ~ Ray Bradbury

Everything has to be clean and orderly when I sit down to write. I have candles going, and small objects that remind me of what I am working on, or bring me into the world of the character. ~ Adriana Trigiani

Occasionally, once a speaker is on his feet, it is difficult to get him to sit down ... If and when he returns to earth, he notices half of the room is paging the other half and a few are playing with the melted candles. ~ Erma Bombeck

The darkness is not so empty as you imagine. Think of attending a party at night, in a house brightly lit with candles. If we happen to glance out the window, we cannot see into the darkness or know what lies outside. Yet any out there in the dark can see inside to us. ~ Galen Beckett

Rearranging furniture, adding some candles, or making even small tweaks can really make the difference. ~ Anthea Turner

For nowadays the world is lit by lightning! Blow out your candles, Laura
and so goodbye ... ~ Tennessee Williams

The Garden by Moonlight"

A black cat among roses,
Phlox, lilac-misted under a first-quarter moon,
The sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock.
The garden is very still,
It is dazed with moonlight,
Contented with perfume,
Dreaming the opium dreams of its folded poppies.
Firefly lights open and vanish
High as the tip buds of the golden glow
Low as the sweet alyssum flowers at my feet.
Moon-shimmer on leaves and trellises,
Moon-spikes shafting through the snow ball bush.
Only the little faces of the ladies' delight are alert and staring,
Only the cat, padding between the roses,
Shakes a branch and breaks the chequered pattern
As water is broken by the falling of a leaf.
Then you come,
And you are quiet like the garden,
And white like the alyssum flowers,
And beautiful as the silent sparks of the fireflies.
Ah, Beloved, do you see those orange lilies?
They knew my mother,
But who belonging to me will they know
When I am gone. ~ Amy Lowell

In trench warfare five things are important: firewood, food, tobacco, candles, and the enemy. In winter on the Zaragoza front they were important in that order, with the enemy a bad last ~ George Orwell

When James entered the breakfast room that morning, it was to varied reactions. Those who hadn't known that he'd arrived started cheerful greetings that sputtered to an end as they got a good look at his face. Those who did know of his arrival and what subsequently followed it were either tactfully silent, grinning from ear to ear, or foolish enough to remark on it.
Jeremy fell into the middle and latter categories when he said with a chuckle, "Well,I know the poor Christmas tree didn't do that to you, though you did try valiantly to chop it down to size."
"And succeeded,as I recall," James grouched, though he did think to ask, "Was it salvageable, puppy?"
"Minus a few of its feathers is all, but those pretty little candles will dress it up so as not to notice- at least if someone other than me finishes the task.I'm much better at hanging the mistletoe."
"And making good use of it," Amy noted with a fond smile for her handsome cousin.
Jeremy winked at her. "That goes without saying. ~ Johanna Lindsey

The memories of childhood have a strange shuttling quality, and areas of darkness ring the spaces of light. The memories of childhood are like clear candles in an acre of night, illuminating fixed scenes from surrounding darkness. ~ Carson McCullers

I was having trouble sleeping. This is not an uncommon thing, but because it eluded me so often, I had a passion for sleep. I had rituals that I rendered unto sleep, as though serving a goddess. White noise was key to the equation. I had a fan in the bedroom that rivaled a freight train in sound. I scented the sheets with sunflower spray, and kept an electric blanket on low for warmth. Surely sleep would be enticed. ~ Phibby Venable

Beyond this point on the river Cambridge became a kind of miniature Venice, its river water lapping up against the ancient stone of college walls, here mottled and reddened brick, there white stone. Stained, lichened, softened by water light. Here the river became a great north-south tunnel, a gothic castle from the river, flanked by locked iron gates, steps leading nowhere, labyrinths, trapdoors, landing stages where barges had unloaded their freight: crates of fine wines, flour, oats, candles, fine meats carried into the damp darkness of college cellars. ~ Rebecca Stott

In just two years, CSAS ignited the flame Grandmother lit years before. Carl would never succeed in his attempts to extinguish it. But his parental authority was able to keep it dormant and unthreatening for several years. At Ooltewah High School, I was like a lion forced into captivity after a liberating romp in the jungle. Nothing challenged me. Nothing motivated me. Nothing moved me. My claustrophobia itched to the point where clawing at my own skin seemed to be my only method of relief. With no social outlets and no intellectual nourishment, I caved into self-destruction. My bulimia amplified from throwing up obligatory family dinners to driving to grocery stores, Dollar Generals, and gas stations, shoving junk food into my purse in between security camera reach, devouring the calories in the corners of desolate parking lots, and scurrying into remote public restrooms in the outskirts of town. My knees would rest on the cold, sticky tile floors as I wrapped my arms around bleach-scented toilets as if embracing an old friend. ~ Maggie Georgiana Young

You can spend your life chitchatting with someone - even a good friend - but spend even an hour moving over a rocky path, breathing in pine-scented air, and I guarantee you the chitchat will turn to something else. ~ Scott Jurek

Dread skittered down my spine and brushed away the last tendrils of sleep. Pushing back the bed linens, I disentangled myself from Polly. Then I put my bare feet on the wooden floorboards and felt the early autumn chill on my legs. I glided soundlessly down the stairs, drawn inexorably to Papa's chamber, the only room where the candles still burned bright. I ~ Stephanie Dray

Do not worry if all the candles in the world flicker and die. We have the spark that starts the fire. ~ Rumi

A surprising fact about the magician Bernard Kornblum, Joe remembered, was that he believed in magic. Not in the so-called magic of candles, pentagrams, and bat wings. Not in the kitchen enchantments of Slavic grandmothers with their herbiaries and parings from the little toe of a blind virgin tied up in a goatskin bag. Not in astrology, theosophy, chiromancy, dowsing rods, séances, weeping statues, werewolves, wonders, or miracles. What bewitched Bernard Kornblum, on the contrary, was the impersonal magic of life, when he read in a magazine about a fish that could disguise itself as any one of seven different varieties of sea bottom, or when he learned from a newsreel that scientists had discovered a dying star that emitted radiation on a wavelength whose value in megacycles approximated π. In the realm of human affairs, this type of enchantment was often, though not always, a sadder business - sometimes beautiful, sometimes cruel. Here its stock-in-trade was ironies, coincidences, and the only true portents: those that revealed themselves, unmistakable and impossible to ignore, in retrospect. ~ Michael Chabon