“My nostrils smell, but not to you. Oh, they have no odor, unless you count the scent of nostalgia, which is what they always smell like.”

“I love the smell of cleanliness. That’s what the inside of my nostrils smell like, naturally.”

“Smell is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived. The odors of fruits waft me to my southern home, to my childhood frolics in the peach orchard. Other odors, instantaneous and fleeting, cause my heart to dilate joyously or contract with remembered grief. Even as I think of smells, my nose is full of scents that start awake sweet memories of summers gone and ripening fields far away.”

“If I had nostrils on my index fingers, I wonder what the inside of my nose would smell like?”

“What is that?"..."Why do you smell like that?"..."Smell like what?""You smell delicious."..."You smell like food. Why do you smell like food?”

“What does he smell like?” “Smell like?” I scrunched up my face. “You know, he looks like he’d smell good.”