Book: Perfumer. The story of a murderer. Page 2

If, for example, to represent all victims, not as separate individuals, but as part of some higher principle and idealistic to think of them as different properties are merged into one, the picture is made up of such a mosaic would have been, in General, a picture of beauty, and the magic coming from her, would be not human but divine power.

He was a man whom no one dares to impose their decisions - not panic-stricken crowd, nor even a single anonymous bastard is a criminal.

He liked such an expectation - not retreating nostalgia and not a passionate impatience, but meaningful, caring, somewhat effective waiting. During this waiting, something happened. Was the most significant. And even if he did it himself, it was done because of him. It gave him profound satisfaction, this waiting.

In corporate life, namely in the regular meetings of journeymen and demonstrations he participated just enough to not conspicuous, neither his absence nor his presence. No friends, no acquaintances he had, but carefully watched that he was not considered nor insolent, nor an outcast. He gave the other journeymen to find his society dull and bland. He was a master in the art of spreading boredom and pretend to be a clueless boob - of course, not overdoing so that it could gleefully mock it or turn it into a blunt of the shop jokes. He managed to seem completely uninteresting. He was left alone. And he is nothing more wanted.

He no longer avoided busy roads and cities, not doing rounds. He had an odor, he had money, he believed in himself, and he was in a hurry.

And if they scented a man who smells like a man, he smell would have seemed two people, or even worse, a monstrous double creature, like an image that cannot definitely fix, because its contours vague and blurry, as the picture on the bottom of the lake, distorted by the ripples on the water.

Only now, gradually moving away from human Chad, Grenouille realized that he was a lump of this mess, what is it eighteen years in a row weighed on him as muggy pre-storm air. Until now, he always thought that the world actually is and needs to be shut down, to climb, to crawl away. But that was not the world, it was the people. Now it seemed to him that with the world - a world in which there was not a soul can be reconciled.

In every art and in every trade - hack to death is on the nose before you go - talent means next to nothing, while experience, acquired with humility and diligence.

The scammer knows how to throw dust in the eyes, confuse the sense of smell is a perfect harmony of smell, a wolf in sheep's clothing classical art, but who is this beast, in short, a monster with talent. And it is worse than any mediocre incompetent, unaware of their ignorance.

All and Sundry asking questions, and digging, and exploring, and sniffing, and just experimenting. Now not to say what and how - if you still to prove it, to present witnesses, to bring the figures to hold some ridiculous experiences there. All sorts of Diderot, and dalamber, and Voltaire, and Rousseau, and other scribblers, whatever they are called - some of them are even spiritual personages and noble gentlemen! - made his: own sinister disturbing, depraved habit of the dissatisfaction and discontent of everything, in short, boundless chaos that reigns in their minds, they managed to extend to all of society.

For the body he needed minimal amount of food and dresses. For the soul he didn't need anything. Security, attention, tenderness, love and things like that, which supposedly needs child, was completely unnecessary for grenuya. Moreover, it seems to us, he deprived himself of them to survive.

People smell vulgar and pathetic.

People can close their eyes and not see the greatness, horror, beauty, and plug my ears and not hear people or words. But they can't resist the aroma. Because aroma is a brother of breath. With the aroma it will enter into people, and they will not be able to protect ourselves from it, if you want to live. And scent entered into their very core, went directly to the heart, and decided categorical judgment about the sympathy and contempt, disgust and lust, love and hate. Who owns the smell owns the people's hearts.

The aroma has a conviction that is stronger than the words, evidence, feelings and will. The credibility of the flavor irrefutable, irresistible, it is part of us like our lungs the air we breathe, it fills, fills us to overflowing. Against her money.