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Nose Quotes

Browse 29 quotes about Nose.

Nose Quotes

“The nose is idiosyncratically central not only to our sense of smell but to our sense of who we are , in our most primal appetites. For the idea of appetite pertains to food as well as to all the sensual and spiritual experiences that drive us, give us pleasure, make us feel more alive in the moment. Scent is a portal to these basic human appetites—for the far-off, the familiar, the transcendent, the strange, and the beautiful—that have motivated us since the origins of our species.”

“This is my favorite part of you, your eyelashes when the light hits them like that. This is my favorite part of you, right where your ear meets your jawline. No, this is my favorite part, the little crease under the tip of your nose. Well, I only like the tip of your nose. If you didn’t have such a great nose-tip, it would be over between us.”

“And so, by means both active and passive, he sought to repair the damage to his self-esteem. He tried first of all to find ways to make his nose look shorter. When there was no one around, he would hold up his mirror and, with feverish intensity, examine his reflection from every angle. Sometimes it took more than simply changing the position of his face to comfort him, and he would try one pose after another—resting his cheek on his hand or stroking his chin with his fingertips. Never once, though, was he satisfied that his nose looked any shorter. In fact, he sometimes felt that the harder he tried, the longer it looked. Then, heaving fresh sighs of despair, he would put the mirror away in its box and drag himself back to the scripture stand to resume chanting the Kannon Sutra. The second way he dealt with his problem was to keep a vigilant eye out for other people’s noses. Many public events took place at the Ike-no-o temple—banquets to benefit the priests, lectures on the sutras, and so forth. Row upon row of monks’ cells filled the temple grounds, and each day the monks would heat up bath water for the temple’s many residents and lay visitors, all of whom the Naigu would study closely. He hoped to gain peace from discovering even one face with a nose like his. And so his eyes took in neither blue robes nor white; orange caps, skirts of gray: the priestly garb he knew so well hardly existed for him. The Naigu saw not people but noses. While a great hooked beak might come into his view now and then, never did he discover a nose like his own. And with each failure to find what he was looking for, the Naigu’s resentment would increase. It was entirely due to this feeling that often, while speaking to a person, he would unconsciously grasp the dangling end of his nose and blush like a youngster. And finally, the Naigu would comb the Buddhist scriptures and other classic texts, searching for a character with a nose like his own in the hope that it would provide him some measure of comfort. Nowhere, however, was it written that the nose of either Mokuren or Sharihotsu was long. And Ryūju and Memyoō, of course, were Bodhisattvas with normal human noses. Listening to a Chinese story once, he heard that Liu Bei, the Shu Han emperor, had long ears. “Oh, if only it had been his nose,” he thought, “how much better I would feel!”

“Roho haina mifumo ya ufahamu! Haina pua, haina macho, haina ladha, haina harufu wala haina masikio. Kwa sababu roho haina mifumo ya ufahamu mtu, anapokufa mifumo yake yote 21 aliyokuwa nayo binadamu huoza na kuwa udongo. Hivyo, kuongea na mtu aliyekufa ni sawa na kuongea na udongo ukitegemea udongo huo ukusikie au uongee na wewe.”

“The people of Ike-no-o used to say that Zenchi Naigu was lucky to be a priest: no woman would ever want to marry a man with a nose like that. Some even claimed it was because of his nose that he had entered the priesthood to begin with. The Naigu himself, however, never felt that he suffered any less over his nose for being a priest. Indeed, his self-esteem was already far too fragile to be affected by such a secondary fact as whether or not he had a wife.”

“Paco is walking out of the bathroom and I rush past him. "You might want to wait before you--" Paco's voice fades as I close the door, locking myself in. Wiping my eyes, I gaze into the mirror. I'm a complete mess. My mascara is dripping and . . . oh, it's no use. I slide down and sit on the cold tile floor. Now I realize what Paco was about to tell me. The place stinks; it really reeks . . . almost to the point where I want to throw up. I put my hand over my nose, trying to ignore the offending smell. *** After locking the door behind him, he crouches beside me and takes me in his arms, pulling me close. Then he sniffs a few times. "Holy shit. Was Paco in here?" I nod. He smoothes my hair and mutters something in Spanish. *** She, too, sniffs a bunch of times. "Was Paco in here?" Alex and I nod. "What the fuck does that guy eat that it comes out his other end smelling so rotten? Dammit," she says, wadding up tissue and putting it over her nose.”

“Allergies, it seems like everyone is developing them. I lived an allergy free life until I passed through a computed tomography X-ray scanner having my lungs examined. Afterwards I was extremely reactive to pollen with a runny nose and heavy sneezing every spring. It does respond to allergy medication and in my medicine cupboard you will find numerous allergy medications. Research into X-Ray radiation revealed that allergies are a known side effect of the exposure.”

“Já que não és bonita, deves salientar-te pela inteligência. Assim há se de conseguir mais na vida do que essas criaturinhas que contam com o sucesso do seu palminho de cara. Quero que aprendas também a tocar piano. Assim falou à minha mãe, que se contava entre as mulheres bonitas. Suspeitaria do mal que me causava? Pouco a pouco fui-me convencendo de ser feia. Olhando para o espelho via uma cara redonda, sem dúvida redonda em excesso, via olhos cinzentos (e não era o cinzento a cor mais feia de todas?), cabelo liso, sem ondas nem caracóis. No nariz curto já Anna repararam e gostava de puxar por ele. E como se me meteu na cabeça que os olhos eram demasiado pequenos, comecei a arregalá-los quando caminhava pelas ruas.”

“Instead of heeding her advice to listen to his conscience, Stromboli had tricked her. Lied to her. The first way you begin to lose yourself is with a lie, Mamma had taught her. A lie keeps growing and growing until it's as plain as the nose on your face. "Mamma's wise words," Chiara murmured to herself. "If only they would help Stromboli, too." As soon as she uttered the command, the wand in Stromboli's hand began to glow. The boy laughed and laughed, thinking gold was about to rain from the ceiling and that his wish would soon come true. But the magic gathered around his nose... which began to grow. "Papa!" he screamed, coming to a halt. Remo seized his stool, raising it high and threateningly. "What are you doing to my son?" "Teaching him something that you would also do well to learn," Chiara replied. Outwardly, she maintained her composure, but her heart raced as she witnessed the wand's power. Let it be temporary, she commended it silently. "You will treat others the way you wish to be treated. And a lie will not get you what you want.”