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Quote by Samantha Armstrong

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Stolen Songs

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Samantha Armstrong

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“I only remember the green-apple fragrance of her breath, the shock of her eyes meeting mine, and the magnetic current that pulled me to her. I remember the fan of her eyelashes as she lowered her eyes to read, and I remember the translucence of her fingernails, the pale pink nail bed and clean white rim, as she pointed to each word. And, of course, the beguiling scent of her. I caught the smell of soap and baking and, under that, a flowery musk, mysterious and exciting. Her scent conjured a dreamscape of everything I longed for.”

AttractionSensationalPhysical AttractionFrancesca
Book:The Book of Unholy Mischief
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“Thick, pale golden juice burst like a tiny rain cloud, tart as a lime and sweet as a peach on my tongue. Full-bodied. A trickle dripped down my index finger, caught just in time, too prized to go to waste. I let Darwin lick it. The real thing, its brilliant sweetness, eaten miles from human habitation, acted as an intoxicating potion. Immediately, its taste unlocked the gates to other northern lands and, as the last of the sweet-sour flavor fizzed out on my tongue, overlaying images sped joyfully through my mind: birch forests, mountains, glittering lakes, snowy trains, windswept taiga. I lingered over that single cloudberry, cherishing it, more than caviar, more than whisky or truffles, more than anything else I had ever eaten, smoked or drunk before. Once it had gone, I felt only a little grief, convincing myself that the cloudberry-- surely the ultimate 'taste of place'-- was somehow a gift; I felt I had consumed its very northernness. It brought back the similar sensations of eating a pear in an orchard, a melon in a melon field, an apple in a grove, though nothing could really compare.”

TasteFlavorSensationalRaritySweet And SourCloudberries
Book:Cold Kitchen: A Year of Culinary Travels
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“The dark fruity flavor was overwhelmed by the other sensations the wine brought— the feel of sunlight on my skin and the weight of the heavy braids that fell to my waist, the hair that was long enough for Elan to wrap around his wrist and up his arm until he wore it like a sleeve. The smell of summer rain hitting the dry prairie soil; and at the same time, the smell of pine and water and mountain flowers, all distinct, present but not clashing. The knowledge that I was loved. That I was among friends. The pleasant soreness in my legs that came from climbing a mountain, the taste of just-picked berries and fresh bread made from flour ground that morning.”

SensationalFaerie Wine
Book:The Tricky Business of Faerie Bargains
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