“I knew that one of my sharpest memories of sixth grade was forever doomed to be that moment—sitting there with the overwhelming odor of rotten eggs, spaghetti, manure, dead dog, wet schoolbags, smelly socks, and the girly perfume of Amy Bellini’s shampoo … all filling my nostrils.”

“I recall the words, the faces, the stale perfume and the pungent odor that filled the room..”

“It felt as if I was suddenly walking around in wet socks, weighing my feet down as if two kids were sitting on my feet with their legs wrapped around mine.”

“I liked this girl in my sixth grade class. I dared her to kiss me -- but she didn't!”

“She uses that shampoo,” he sighed. “What shampoo?” “The one with honey in it.” Ric’s eyes crossed. “Oh, my God.” “She was sitting in that tree, her leg bleeding out, and all I could think about was how good her hair smelled.”

“The wind, one brilliant day, calledto my soul with an odor of jasmine."In return for the odor of my jasmine,I'd like all the odor of your roses.""I have no roses; all the flowersin my garden are dead.""Well then, I'll take the withered petalsand the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain."the wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself:"What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?”