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“Did you ever sleep in a field of orange-trees in bloom? The air which one inhales deliciously is a quintessence of perfumes. This powerful and sweet smell, as savoury as a sweetmeat, seems to penetrate one, to impregnate, to intoxicate, to induce languor, to bring about a dreamy and somnolent torpor. It is like opium prepared by fairy hands and not by chemists.”
― Guy de Maupassant, 88 Short Stories

“Now the road was crossing orange groves in flower, and the nuptial scent of the blossoms absorbed the rest as a full moon does a landscape; the smell of sweating horses, the smell of leather from the carriage upholstery, the smell of Prince and the smell of Jesuit, were all cancelled out by that Islamic perfume evoking houris and fleshly joys beyond the grave.”
― Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa, The Leopard

“Dans la cour attenant au triclinium, des musiciens assemblés accordaient des lyres et des flûtes pour accompagner en sourdine les conversations.
Des parfums intenses, nés de la nuit chaude, arrivaient par bouffées. Brigitte, assise au pied du lit de l’impératrice Eutropie, s’étonna :
� Quel est cet arôme étrange, à la fois si lourd et si doux ?
Les narines de Niké palpitèrent pour mieux humer l’air parvenant du jardin :
� Je sais ! Il provient d’une fleur en forme d’étoile et que l’on dirait sculptée dans la cire. C’est la fleur d’un arbre fruitier. Elle fleurit sans cesse, d’une lune à l’autre. Sévérien aime beaucoup cet arbre, qu’il a rapporté d’Afrique. Il l’appelle oranger.
â€� La nuit est tout embaumée de son parfum. Il estâ€�, il est inoubliable !”
― L.N. Lavolle, L'Otage de Rome

“Danielle wore a simple bias-cut gown of the palest blush silk- one of her own designs- with white roses and jasmine braided into her thick auburn hair swept up from the nape of her neck, onto which she'd applied a new perfume she'd blended with a corresponding harmony just for the wedding. She carried the flowers of Bellerose: mimosa, rose, jasmine, violet, and orange blossom, twined into a voluptuous bouquet that spilled from her hand.
Jon stood before her, his velvety brown eyes sparkling with flecks of gold. She drank in the delicious, virile smell of him, loving how the scent of his skin melded with the perfume she had blended for him for this day- blood orange and orange blossom, patchouli and sandalwood, cinnamon and clove. She had devised a salty note, too, and added the sea's airy freshness.”
― Jan Moran, Scent of Triumph

“Amazing how sunlight makes a landscape shine in shades of ocean blue, blood red, grass green, and everything in between. A tree with orange blossoms high in its canopy of leaves; blossoms that sway in the wind and flutter downward, slowly, pirouetting like miniature dancers.”
― Astrid H. Roemer, Gebroken wit