词汇：smell

vi. 嗅，闻；有…气味

相关场景

It was a desperate trick, but the only one he could think of that increased his chances—most horses shied from the smell of fresh blood. He needed the horse for a breastworks anyway and could have shot him, but he had saved a bullet, and the blood smell might work for him.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
That day the men killed twenty buffalo. Elmira had to wait in the sun all day while they skinned them out. Finally she got down and sat under the wagon, which provided a little shade. The men piled the bloody, smelly hides into the wagon, which didn’t suit the mules. They hated the smell of hides as much as she did.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“You get where you don’t smell ’em after a while,” he said. “I don’t hardly even notice it, I’ve smelled ’em so much.” Luke had a little quirt and was always nervously popping himself on the leg with it. “You skeert of Indians?” he asked.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Zwey went to buy some mules,” he said. “We got two horses but they won’t do for the wagon. Anyway, we might get some hides while you’re driving the wagon.” “I don’t like the smell of hides,” she said pointedly, but not pointedly enough for Luke to get the message.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“He’ll take you to Ogallala, if you’ll do it,” Fowler said. “You might think about it. He ain’t as bad as some.” “How would you know?” she asked. “You ain’t been married to him.” Fowler shrugged. “He might be your best bet,” he said. “I’m going back downriver next week. A couple of hide haulers are taking a load to Kansas, and they might take you, but it’d be a hard trip. You’d have to smell them stinkin’ hides all the way. Anyway, the hide haulers are rough,” he said. “I think Zwey would treat you all right.” “I don’t want to go to Kansas,” she said. “I been to Kansas.” What ruined that was that she was pregnant, and showing. Some of the saloons weren’t particular, but it was always harder to get work if you were pregnant. Besides, she didn’t want to work, she wanted Dee, who wouldn’t mind that she was pregnant.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Fowler did his best for Elmira. He got the traders to let her have a little room—just a tiny, dirty closet, really. It was next to a warehouse where piles of buffalo skins were stored. The smell of the skins was worse than anything that had happened on the river. Her room was full of fleas that had escaped from the skins. She spent much of her time scratching.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
She heard the leader speak to Blue Duck and then felt their horses crowd around her. Several hands reached out to feel and pull her hair. She could smell the men and feel them, but she didn’t look up. She didn’t want to see them. Their rank, sweaty smell was almost enough to make her sick. One of them, amused by her hair, pulled it till her scalp stung, and he laughed a strange, jerky laugh. They crowded so close around her on their hot horses that for a moment she felt she might faint. She had never been in such a hard place, not even when Mosby’s sisters locked her in the basement.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Reckon he don’t like the way we smell?” Bert Borum asked.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I gave twenty-eight skunk hides for her,” the old man said suddenly. “You got any whiskey?” In fact, Roscoe did have a bottle that he had bought off the soldiers. He could already smell frying meat—the possum, no doubt—and his appetite came back. He had nothing in his stomach and could think of little he would rather eat than a nice piece of fried possum. Around Fort Smith the Negroes kept the possums thinned out; they were seldom available on the tables of white folks.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I guess we’ll try to find a ridge to camp on,” Jake said. “It would be nice to be upwind from these smelly beasts.” “Good God, Jake, if you’re that finicky you ought to have been a barber,” Augustus said. “Then you could smell hair oil and toilet water all day and never be offended.” He walked over and helped Lorena mount. The brown mare was restless and kept slinging her head.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“We’ve the Lord to thank for this bath,” she said. “I personally didn’t need it, but I’m bound to say it might work an improvement where you’re concerned. You ain’t as bad-looking as I thought, now that you’re nearly clean.” By the time she got to her back porch the rain was slackening and the sun was already striking little rainbows through the sparkle of drops that still fell. Pea had walked on home, the water dripping more slowly from his hat. He never mentioned the incident to anyone, knowing it would mean unmerciful teasing if it ever got out. But he remembered it. When he lay on the porch half drunk and it floated up in his mind, things got mixed into the memory that he hadn’t even known he was noticing, such as the smell of Mary’s wet flesh. He hadn’t meant to smell her, and hadn’t made any effort to, and yet the very night after it happened the first thing he remembered was that Mary had smelled different from any other wet thing he had ever smelled. He could not find a word for what was different about Mary’s smell—maybe it was just that, being a woman, she smelled cleaner than most of the wet creatures he came in contact with. It had been more than a year since the rainstorm, and yet Mary’s smell was still part of the memory of it. He also remembered how she seemed to bulge out of her corset at the top and the bottom both.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“What does trouble smell like then?” he asked. “I never noticed it had an odor. You right sure you ain’t just smelling yourself?” But Deets would never explain himself or allow Gus to draw him very deeply into argument. “How do the coyote know?” he sometimes replied.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
was Deets. Nobody expected Deets to talk, which left him free to pay attention, and he paid careful attention, often noticing things that Call had overlooked, or confirming judgments that Call felt uncertain about. Even Gus was quick to admit that Deets had the best hearing in the outfit, although Deets himself claimed to rely just as much on his sense of smell—a claim Augustus poked fun at.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Newt took the gun and slipped it out of its holster. It smelted faintly of oil—the Captain must have oiled it that day. It was not the first time he had held a pistol, of course. Mr. Gus had given him thorough training in pistol shooting and had even complimented him on his skill. But holding one and actually having one of your own were two different things. He turned the cylinder of the Colt and listened to the small, clear clicks it made. The grip was wood, the barrel cool and blue; the holster had kept a faint smell of saddle soap. He slipped the gun back in its holster, put the gun belt around his waist and felt the gun’s solid weight against his hip. When he walked out into the lots to catch his horse, he felt grown and complete for the first time in his life. The sun was just easing down toward the Western horizon, the bullbats weredipping toward the stone stock tank that Deets and the Captain had built long ago. Deets had already caught Mr. Gus’s horse, a big solid sorrel they called Mud Pie, and was catching his own mount. Newt shook out a loop, and on the first throw caught his own favorite, a dun gelding he called Mouse. He felt he could even rope better with the gun on his hip.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Call stepped close enough to the young cowboy to smell whiskey and realized he was only sick drunk. It was the last thing he had expected, and his immediate impulse was to fire the boy on the spot and send him back to Shanghai Pierce, who was said to be tolerant of the bottle. But before he opened his mouth to do it he happened to note that Gus and Jake were grinning at one another as if it were all a capital joke. To them no doubt it was—jokes had always interested them more than serious business. But since they were so full of this particular joke, it occurred to Call that they had probably tricked Dish somehow and got him drunk on purpose, in which case it was not entirely the boy’s fault. They were wily foxes, and worse about joking when the two of them were together. It was just like them to pull such a stunt at the time when it was least appropriate—just the kind of thing they had done all through their years as Rangers.Dish meanwhile had gained the top of the bank and made it to his feet. When he stood up, his head cleared for a moment and he felt a wild optimism—maybe he was over being drunk. A second later his hopes were shattered. He started to walk off toward the lots to saddle his horse, stubbed his toe on a mesquite root that poked up through the dirt and fell flat on his face.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Jake grinned his slow grin. “You boys,” he said. “You got me down for lazier than I am. I ain’t no lover of cow shit and trail dust, I admit, but I’ve seen something that you haven’t seen: Montana. Just because I like to play cards don’t mean I can’t smell an opportunity when one’s right under my nose. Why, you boys ain’t even got a barn with a roof on it. I doubt it would bust you to move.” “Jake, if you ain’t something,” Augustus said. “Here we ain’t seen hide nor hair of you for ten years and now you come riding in and want us to pack up and go north to get scalped.” “Well, Gus, me and Call are going bald anyway,” Jake said. “You’re the only one whose hair they’d want.”“All the more reason not to carry it to a hostile land,” Augustus said. “Why don’t you just calm down and play cards with me for a few days? Then when I’ve won all your money we’ll talk about going places.” Jake whittled down a match and began to meticulously pick his teeth.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Way up, past the Yellowstone,” Jake said. “I was near to the Milk River. You can smell Canady from there.” “I bet you can smell Indians too,” Call said. “How’d you get past the Cheyenne?” “They shipped most of them out,” Jake said. “Some of the Blackfeet are still troublesome. But I was with the Army, doing a little scouting.” That hardly made sense. Jake Spoon might scout his way across a card table, but Montana was something else.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
At that point someone did stumble onto it, but only Dish Boggett, who had always been responsive to the smell of frying bacon.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Xavier, I’ll make you a deal,” Augustus said. “Loan Dish here two dollars so we can get a little game going, and I’ll rake that hat into a towsack and carry it home to my pigs. It’s the only way you’ll ever get rid of it.” “If you wear it again I will burn it,” Xavier said, still inflamed. “I will burn the whole place. Then where will you go?” “If you was to burn that pianer you best have a swift mule waiting,” Lippy said, his lip undulating as he spoke. “The church folks won’t like it.” Dish found the conversation a burden to listen to. He had delivered a small horse herd in Matamoros and had ridden nearly a hundred miles upriver with Lorie in mind. It was funny he would do it, since the thought of her scared him, but he had just kept riding and here he was. He mainly did his sporting with Mexican whores, but now and then he found he wanted a change from small brown women. Lorena was so much of a change that at the thought of her his throat clogged up and he lost his ability to talk. He had already been with her four times and had a vivid memory of how white she was: moon-pale and touched with shadows, like the night outside. Only not like the night, exactly—he could ride through the night peacefully, and a ride with Lorena was not peaceful. She used some cheap powder, a souvenir of her city living, and the smell of it seemed to follow Dish for weeks. He didn’t like just paying her, though—it seemed to him it would be better if he brought her a fine present from Abilene or Dodge. He could get away with that with the señoritas—they liked the idea of presents to look forward to, and Dish was careful never to renege. He always came back from Dodge with ribbons and combs.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Border nights were so dry you could smell the dirt, and clear as dew. In fact, the nights were so clear it was tricky; even with hardly any moon the stars were bright enough that every bush and fence post cast a shadow. Pea Eye, who had a jumpy disposition, was always shying from shadows, and he had even blazed away at innocent chaparral bushes on occasion, mistaking them for bandits.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Please don't say goodbye I know that most girls Try to keep their flatulence inside But I can't lie I need a man who knows the past A lot of gas, that smells the gas Is here to last for infinity to beyond - Rotting gas - ( vocalizing ) - I farted - ( vocalizing ) - Smells like ass - ( vocalizing ) - I definitely farted - ( vocalizing ) - I think I farted - On a wall - I think I farted - In the bed - I think I farted - On the TV I think I fa a-a-a-a - Rotting gas - ( vocalizing ) I'll be coming round the mountain - When she comes - ( fart noise ) I'll be coming around the mountain when she comes ( fart noise ) Uh, one candle is still... - Oh, one left.
>> Fart: A Documentary Movie Script
I mean, I didn't mind smells associated with farts too much until I learned that smells are actually produced by physical molecules.
>> Fart: A Documentary Movie Script
You know, the noise is funny, but when it smells so bad... - That you can just taste it?
>> Fart: A Documentary Movie Script
( chattering ) ( farting ) ( men shouting ) As far as what might make me a bit squeamish, I think it's the smell.
>> Fart: A Documentary Movie Script
No, the smell is terrible, but if it's not noisy and you don't know who's done... Female interviewer: Is this true?
>> Fart: A Documentary Movie Script