“Up the funnel of the staircase came warm whiffs of joints roasting, of fowls basting, of soups simmering–ravishing almost as food itself to nostrils used to the meagre savour of Kerenhappock’s penurious frys and hashes.”

–Virginia Woolf. Flush: A Biography. San Diego: A Harvest Book / Harcourt, 1933. Quote on page 18.

What do you think?