Whoever has survived his own birth on a rubbish heap is not so easily shoved back out of this world again. — Patrick Süskind

He was very suspicious of inventions, for they always meant that some rule would have to be broken.

Even knowing that to possess that scent he must pay the terrible price of losing it again, the very possession and the loss seemed to him more desirable than a prosaic renunciation of both. For he had renounced things all his life. But never once had he possessed and lost.

People could close their eyes to greatness, to horrors, to beauty, and their ears to melodies or deceiving words. But they couldn't escape scent. For scent was a brother of breath.