Bone

  • Heart and Mind Perfume Oil

    Said the Lion to the Lioness ― ‘When you are amber dust, ―

    No more a raging fire like the heat of the Sun

    (No liking but all lust) ―

    Remember still the flowering of the amber blood and bone,

    The rippling of bright muscles like a sea,

    Remember the rose-prickles of bright paws

    Though the fire of that sun the heart and the moon-cold bone are one.’

     

    Said the Skeleton lying upon the sands of Time ― 

    ‘The great gold planet that is the mourning heat of the Sun

    Is greater than all gold, more powerful

    Than the tawny body of a Lion that fire consumes

    Like all that grows or leaps… so is the heart

     

    More powerful than all dust. Once I was Hercules

    Or Samson, strong as the pillars of the seas:

    But the flames of the heart consumed me, and the mind

    Is but a foolish wind.’

     

    Said the Sun to the Moon ― ‘When you are but a lonely white crone,

    And I, a dead King in my golden armour somewhere in a dark wood,

    Remember only this of our hopeless love

    That never till Time is done

    Will the fire of the heart and the fire of the mind be one.’ 

    – Edith Sitwell

    The flowering of amber blood and bone blooming into the Moon’s shimmering mugwort, creaking oaken boughs streaked with frankincense tar, and a trickle of benzoin to echo the cold silence before the end of time.

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    Isaac, The Living Skeleton Perfume Oil

    To your side, you hear a man’s deep whisper, “Slowly I turned… inch by inch… step by step….” A scream interrupts him, and a roar of laughter pulses through the shadowed hall. Following the commotion, you move to the next stage. A bone-thin man moves across the stage, and sits upon an overstuffed, threadbare armchair. A battered violin is propped against the chair’s side. The audience starts to dissipate, and you realize that you must have just missed his performance. Relaxing, he reclines lazily, and as the light falls on his face, you come to realize that he is truly skeletal: a thin membrane of skin covers most of his body, but in many places, bone is completely exposed. He winks at you, and chuckles at your obvious discomfiture. The sweet smoke from his cigar touches your senses, and you hear the soft clink of the ice as he swirls the bourbon in his tumbler.

    “Late for the show, are ya, friend? I’ll tell you a quick one, and then you’d best skedaddle. I have better things to do than sit here and be gawked at all night.” He takes a swig from his tumbler.

    “A man goes to a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist says, ‘I think you’re crazy.’ The man says, ‘I want a second opinion.’ The psychiatrist shrugs and says, ‘Alright, you’re ugly, too.’”

    His attention is diverted by a scantily clad woman in the audience beside you, and he leers at her. “Hello, nurse!” he growls, and leans towards her lecherously. “How’s about you come back to my dressing room, and I show you my stamp collection?”

    Bourbon, black tobacco tar, dry bone, bay rum aftershave, and sleazy cologne.

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  • skull with discarded gorget

    Skull With Discarded Gorget Perfume Oil

    Jan Davidszoon de Heem
    Steel, leather, and bone.

    Out of Stock
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    The Gatekeeper Perfume Oil

    A dry perfume, solemn and riddled with ancient, whispered secrets: brittle bones, the well-worn leather spines of forgotten books, crumbling papyrus, and the warm, strange scent of yellowed, crumbling manuscripts.

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    The Snowglobe Perfume Oil

    She looked around the room. It was so familiar-that was what made it feel so truly strange. Everything was exactly the same as she remembered: there was all her grandmother’s strange-smelling furniture, there was the painting of the bowl of fruit (a bunch of grapes, two plums, a peach and an apple) hanging on the wall, there was the low wooden table with the lion’s feet, and the empty fireplace which seemed to suck heat from the room.

    But there was something else, something she did not remember seeing before. A ball of glass, up on the mantelpiece.

    She went over to the fireplace, went up on tiptoes, and lifted it down. It was a snow globe, with two little people in it. Coraline shook it and set the snow flying, white snow that glittered as it tumbled through the water.

    Then she put the snow globe back on the mantelpiece, and carried on looking for her true parents and for a way out.

    Cold leaded glass, bone chip snow, and glycerin.

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  • Vigil for the Harvest Suitors Perfume Oil

    Power of the Witch lies in her respect and direct communication with nature. She may choose to give favor to those who can see her wisdom as authentic and beneficial.

     

    Beeswax, bone, broomcorn, and lilac.

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  • Vanitas image featuring books, fruit, a skull, and a recorder

    Wooden Recorder With Fruits, Skull, Books, And A Feather Perfume Oil

    Harmen Steenwijck
    Leather, polished elder wood, and bleached bone with a glut of peaches, apples, cherries, and wine grapes.

    Out of Stock
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    Yorick Perfume Oil

    Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now?

    Grave dirt, bone, decay, angel’s trumpet, and moldering scraps of shroud: the essence of finality.

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