Quotes About Sensory

My paintings are not meant to be tasted.

What I am getting at is that in a place like this where we are deprived of so much already, the small things that delight the senses - food, a soft blanket, a percale sheet and pillow case, a bottle of lavender cologne, a linen handkerchief seem necessities if one is to survive.

I want all my senses engaged. Let me absorb the world's variety and uniqueness.

Sounds came to me dully, as if people were speaking through their handkerchiefs or with their hands over their mouths. Colors weren't true either, but rather a vague assortment of shaded pastels that indicated not so much color as faded familiarities. People's names escaped me and I began to worry over my sanity.

I couldn't distinguish whether I was smelling the clutching sound of misery or hearing the cloying odor of death.

He inhaled her scent, uncaring of the blood and dirt and grime that permeated her hair and clothing. He was holding her. Finally holding her. "You're real. You're real." She pulled away, looked up at him, the same answering emotion shining in her blue eyes. With a groan, he lowered his mouth to hers. He couldn't hold back. Nothing in the world would have kept him from kissing her in that moment. He was overcome.

THE SUN FELT good on Cathy's face.

I felt as if the Milky Way, hovering above our heads like a celestial pitcher, had suddenly overturned, pouring suns and planets down my throat. Stars seemed to be shooting out of my finger and toes, the ends of my hair.

Each caress leaving my nerve endings feeling as tingly as if they'd just been kissed by a shooting star, landing on my skin and leaving it as glistening as a newly formed galaxy.

It would seem that, through touch, through kissing, we might have gouged a worm-size channel through which crucial information could pass, sublingual messages, the kind of pre-verbal intimacy that should flow with thunderous force between the bodies of people so bonded. We should have been able to bypass a mere inability to exchange language.

I couldn't stand so many people so close to me. I was overpowered by the noise, the perfume, the decorations, and by the glare of the electric lights. After the soft glow of candles, everything seemed harsh and artificially bright.

the brain can process two million bits of information per second. It remembers everything you've ever seen, everything you've ever heard…

could feel the torn, knurled rim that had held the small lens of the eyepiece. The

My style flows from the fingers. The eye and ear approve or amend.

On ne peut pas expliquer le goût salé à quelq'un qui ne connaît que le sucré.

I had particularly loved her smell. She always smelled fresh, freshly washed or of fresh laundry or fresh sweat or freshly loved.

A man who has never enjoyed beautiful things in the company of a woman whom he loved has not experienced to the full the magic power of which such things are capable.

The wind in the wires is like the tearing of soft silk under the blended drone of engine and propeller.

The enchiladas were just the way I like them: two corn tortillas rolled into perfect cylinders, melted yellow cheese oozing from the ends, tucked under a generous blanket of chili gravy—not too thick, not too thin—topped with shredded cheddar cheese and bordered by flaky Spanish rice and soupy refried beans. Lord, hear my plea: let my final meal be this.

I'm sick of the foodies who need every morsel that goes into their mouth to be a Picasso painting, a Giacometti sculpture, a Proust novel, evoking the world with each crumb.

Roja Dove - who, at 58, is a stock-straight six feet and handsome with lantern jaw, blue eyes, and impeccably combed silvering hair on the sides of an otherwise tanned bald head - may possess the finest nose in the world.

Of all the senses, sight must be the most delightful.

I think being deaf gave me an increased sense of sight.

In Braille you write your flat sign first and then your note.