“...and so many orchards circled the village that on some crisp October afternoons the whole wold smelled like pie.”

“He smelled like smoke too, and under it was the edge of apple pies-spice and goodness. Jesus. Even after all that he smelled like a bakery.”

“She smelled like vanilla spice, or pumpkin pie, or something sweet yet sinful.”

“Until that afternoon in October four years ago, I hadn't known dogs could scream.”

“I hope that while so many people are out smelling the flowers, someone is taking the time to plant some.”

“I was just peeling some potatoes for dinner and they all looked like crisp white potatoes until I cut them in half. Every single one had a rotten, gray core. [. . .] I feel like the whole world is black, rotting, and evil. Even when it looks crisp on the outside, that's a lie, because you can't trust anything - on the inside it's nothing like mold. [. . .] So, see, nothing good is ever going to happen, and anyone who says it is, is lying to you.”