Quotes About Sensory

I love bright red drinks, don't you? They taste twice as good as any other color.

Most of all she loved that when she hugged him her head would rest neatly just below his chin, where she could feel his breath lightly blowing her hair and tickling her head.

I love foods that start in my cheeks and then vibrate up.

I use omega-3 oil. I love light oil on my skin. It's one of my favorite feelings in the world.

Food is a passion. Food is love.

Is love the sweetness of flowers?

How I do love the earth. I feel it thrill under my feet. I feel somehow as if it were conscious of my love, as if something passed into my dancing blood from it.

I love a nicely groomed guy who smells good. That's important.

To be overcome by the fragrance of flowers is a delectable form of defeat.

carpet tickling the bottoms of their feet and their nosegays

All that is really going in your mouth is texture and chemicals. It is your brain that reads these scentless, flavorless molecules and vivifies them for your pleasure. Your brownie is sheet music. It is your brain that makes it a symphony.

color isn't a fixed reality but a perception.

It is a strange, nonintuitive fact of existence that photons of light have no color, sound waves no sound, olfactory molecules no odors.

If a breeze plays lightly on your cheek, it is your Meissner's corpuscles that let you know.*

When you put your hand on a hot plate, your Ruffini corpuscles cry out. Merkel cells respond to constant pressure, Pacinian corpuscles to vibration. Meissner's

Unlike the curled shoe tongues that are consumed in Britain or the boringly crisp, regimented strips we go for in America, Australian bacon has a rough, meaty, fair dinkum heartiness. It looks as if it was taken off the pig while it was trying to escape. You can almost hear the squeal in every bite. Lovely.

Our ears are built for a quiet world. Evolution did not foresee that one day humans would insert plastic buds in their ears and subject their eardrums to a hundred decibels of melodic roar across a span of millimeters.

I longed for artificial bacon bits, melted cheese in a shade of yellow unknown to nature, and creamy chocolate fillings, sometimes all in the same product. I wanted food that squirts when you bite into it or plops onto your shirt front in such gross quantities that you have to rise very, very carefully from the table and sort of limbo over to the sink to clean yourself up.

When loss of balance is prolonged or severe, the brain doesn't know quite what to make of it and interprets it as poisoning. That is why loss of balance so generally results in nausea.

I felt weightless. I felt nothing would happen to me. I felt that anything might happen to me. I was looking straight ahead, running, trying to keep up, and things were occurring along the dark peripheries of my vision: there would be a bright light and then darkness again and the sound, constantly, of something else breaking, and of movement, of objects being thrown and of people falling.

I thanked everyone whose job it ever was to lay hands on the skin of strangers, and I gave general thanks that I was lying facedown in a warm puddle of soap and not a warm puddle of blood in some corner of this incomprehensible city.

I pop a beautiful sentence into my mouth and suck it like a fruit drop.

Because when I read, I don't really read; I pop a beautiful sentence into my mouth and suck it like a fruit drop, or I sip it like a liqueur until the thought dissolves in me like alcohol, infusing brain and heart and coursing on through the veins to the root of each blood vessel.

Le plus clair de mon temps, je le passe à l'obscurcir, parce que la lumière me gêne.