Quotes About Sensory

He always smelled like warm wood and brandy, even when he hadn't had a drop of drink. Funny how he managed that. Funny how his smell was in her bed. Henry's eyelids fluttered open. Funny how he was in her bed.

She was here, with him, and she felt like heaven. The soft scent of her hair, the slight taste of salt on her skin— she was, he thought, born to rest in the shelter of his arms. And he was born to hold her. -Benedict's thoughts about Sophie

What are you smiling about?" she asked. He drew back a few inches, cupping her face with both hands. "How did you know I was smiling?" "I could feel it on my lips." He brought a finger to those lips, tracing the outline, then running the edge of his fingernail along the plump skin. "You make me smile," he whispered. "When you don't make me want to scream, you make me smile." -Sophie & Benedict

The waltz allowed him to get just close enough to her to detect that maddening scent of lemons, and he inhaled it as if it would save his life.

He didn't know her name, didn't know anything about her except that she dreamed of Rome and smelled like violets. And that she tasted like vanilla cream.

She was here, with him, and she felt like heaven. The soft scent of her hair, the slight taste of salt on her skin— she was, he thought, born to rest in the shelter of his arms. And he was born to hold her. -Benedict's thoughts

I have always thought that my ear is also very influenced by my eyes.

Sometimes I'll be in an elevator and I'll hear a corny instrumental version of 'Light My Fire.'

Color is an intense experience on its own.

As touch-screens have become more popular, they have retrained how we interact with images we see on many surfaces.

Liv wanted to protest further but she was rapidly losing all power of speech, mainly because Baird was licking and sucking her neck again, his hot tongue tracing a ticklish trail down over her collarbones and sternum. He stopped long enough to rub his rough cheeks over her sensitive nipples, making her jump and gasp, and then trailed lower to nibble and kiss her trembling abdomen. Finally

He smelled like a birthday party for small children, like vanilla, crêpe paper, soap, starch, and warm steam and cigarettes.

How could they all just casually drink Coca-Cola when one sip, and it tasted like musty trunks? How on earth could anyone eat a hamburger unless they were starving?

Although I don't ever think I'll get enough mangoes in my life, eating one in the hot rain is one of the more perfect divine interventions. Mangoes will make you forget anything but mangoes.

Listen for the body signals that tell you that you are no longer hungry. Observe the signs that show that you're comfortably full. Pause in the middle of a meal or snack and ask yourself how the food tastes, and what your current fullness level is.

L'art Green arsenic smeared on an egg-white cloth, Crushed strawberries! Come, let us feast our eyes.

Verde que te quiero verde. Verde viento. Verdes ramas. El barco sobre la mar y el caballo en la montaña. Con la sombra en la cintura ella sueña en su baranda, verde carne, pelo verde, con ojos de fría plata.

I went away from your side, in love without knowing it. Now I don't know how your eyes look, nor your hands, nor your hair. I know only the butterfly of your kiss on my forehead.

Estás aquí bebiendo mi sangre, bebiendo mi humor de niño pesado, mientras mis ojos se quiebran en el viento con el aluminio y las voces de los borrachos. Déjame pasar la puerta donde Eva come hormigas y Adán fecunda peces deslumbrados. Déjame pasar hombrecillo de los cuernos al bosque de los desperezos y los alegrísimos saltos.

Emilio, Enrique, Estaban los tres enterrados: Lorenzo en un seno de Flora; Emilio en la, yerta ginebra que se olvida en el vaso, Enrique en la hormiga, en el mar y en los ojos vacíos de los pájaros.

I can't listen to you. I can't listen to your voice. It's as though I'd drunk a bottle of anise and fallen asleep wrapped in a quilt of roses. It pulls me along – and I know I'm drowning – but I go on down.

My memories are a silent movie: I can put my old eyes on to see them, but my ears are deaf to them.

Cuando me dejaban solo con los dos ciegos y ellos conversaban, no tenía en cuenta constantemente que eran ciegos; y de pronto me sorprendía que tomando la conversación un giro o una actitud íntima, ellos no se miraran, ni hicieran movimientos correspondientes a lo que estábamos acostumbrados a ver en las personas que tienen vista; y así, ellos creaban a mis ojos una nueva forma de movimientos correspondientes a la conversación.

Descubrí que su belleza era agresiva, aunque su agresividad no fuera contra nada , igual me parecía que era agresiva, que esa era la cualidad de su belleza.