You're the most deliciously clumsy of women.

Husked grain and scented herb .

Husked grain and scented herb .

And grain having husks and scented plants .

And grain having husks and scented plants .

A lamp of scented oil lit up.

Okay, black man with scented Mentos. Got it.

My job description was deliciously vague wilderness assessment and public relations.

In each shot glass is a different scented oil.

Oh, I know I'm going to miss the scented breezes of Spain.

Because he had something buried in that garden that the dog scented.

It was positively tepid. By the time more was carried and properly scented...

And also corn , with ( its ) leaves and stalk for fodder , and sweet scented plants .

And also corn , with ( its ) leaves and stalk for fodder , and sweet scented plants .

This will warm up the scented oil inside, and a particular smell will be emitted.

Here I am, all freshly bathed and scented and feeling like a brandnew human being.

But if he stopped using lady scented body wash and switched to Old Spice, he could smell like he's me.

The conspiracy behind the calculus myth has been suddenly, brutally and quite deliciously exposed after volumes of Newton s private correspondence were compiled and published.

The stove not only took up room and scented the house, but it concealed the fire, and I felt as if I had lost a companion.

And the kings of the earth, who have committed fornication and lived deliciously with her, shall bewail her, and lament for her, when they shall see the smoke of her burning,

A group of NGOs have rechristened it the Robin Hood tax, and have launched a global campaign to promote it, complete with a deliciously biting video clip featuring British actor Bill Nighy (www.robinhoodtax.org).

When you have been bathed in scented water, when your limbs have been caressed by sweet oils and your hair combed with sandalwood, there will be no time for tears.

How much she hath glorified herself, and lived deliciously, so much torment and sorrow give her for she saith in her heart, I sit a queen, and am no widow, and shall see no sorrow.

Author and illustrator Maira Kalman talks about her life and work, from her covers for The New Yorker to her books for children and grown ups. She is as wonderful, as wise and as deliciously off kilter in person as she is on paper.

Now only a dent in the earth marks the site of these dwellings, with buried cellar stones, and strawberries, raspberries, thimble berries, hazel bushes, and sumachs growing in the sunny sward there some pitch pine or gnarled oak occupies what was the chimney nook, and a sweet scented black birch, perhaps, waves where the door stone was.

Still grows the vivacious lilac a generation after the door and lintel and the sill are gone, unfolding its sweet scented flowers each spring, to be plucked by the musing traveller planted and tended once by children's hands, in front yard plots now standing by wallsides in retired pastures, and giving place to new rising forests the last of that stirp, sole survivor of that family.

They grew also behind my house, and one large tree, which almost overshadowed it, was, when in flower, a bouquet which scented the whole neighborhood, but the squirrels and the jays got most of its fruit the last coming in flocks early in the morning and picking the nuts out of the burs before they fell, I relinquished these trees to them and visited the more distant woods composed wholly of chestnut.