Quotes About Sensory

his open nostril quivered with intent.

From the open window came the mingled odours of horse-sweat, peaches and sour milk.

sa's smell (the fragrance of a beautiful man) is what I miss the most. […] Like a virus his smell entered me and changed my cells, slowly, over years, until they craved only that smell, which was their oxygen.

Asa's smell (the fragrance of a beautiful man) is what I miss the most. […] Like a virus his smell entered me and changed my cells, slowly, over years, until they craved only that smell, which was their oxygen.

I fear the day when the technos decide that paper books are obsolete and we are reading from PC screens and iPods and eBooks, and we never again experience the little rush of opening a new book and cracking the spine and smelling the print and diving deep into the thoughts of the writer.

The bliss of stroking an octopus's head is difficult to convey to most people, even to animal lovers.

Slime doesn't wreck anything, I explained to Jody. After all, I reminded her, Slime is part of the two greatest pleasurable experiences known to humankind. She thought for a moment. What's the other one? she asked. Eating, I replied.

gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear.

I'm still not sure I didn't hallucinate the conversation while overdosing on his pheromones.

I watched him take a drink, swirl it around in his mouth like a fine wine, and then swallow it. The working of his throat made me hot, but that was nothing compared to what the intensity of his stare did to me. "Not bad," he murmured. "Tell me if we made it right." He kissed me.

The feel of your big cock in me is delicious, but far more so when it's moving.

Qué clase de hombre se rodea de las cosas bellas de la vida y no se detiene ni un segundo a contemplarlas?

E tu fazes-me lembrar que o meu corpo consegue sentir outas coisas que não dor.

Ever since I was small I loved feeling somebody comb my hair. It made me go all sleepy and peaceful.

And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me. --from Tulips, written 18 March 1961

I am flushed and warm. I think I may be enormous, I am so stupidly happy, My wellingtons Squelching and squelching through the beautiful red.

I shut my eyes, and the music broke over me like a rainstorm.

I saw the gooseflesh on my skin. I did not know what made it. I was not cold. Had a ghost passed over? No, it was the poetry. A spark flew off Arnold and shook me, like a chill. I wanted to cry; I felt very odd. I had fallen into a new way of being happy.

The still waters Wrap my lips, Eyes, nose and ears, A clear Cellophane I cannot crack.

The poet made eating salad with your fingers seem to be the only natural and sensible thing to do.

A small, answering point in my own body flew toward it. I felt my lungs inflate with the inrush of scenery- air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, This is what it is to be happy.

There is a green in the air, Soft, delectable. It cushions me lovingly.

Gri kadife koltuÄŸa yaslan?p gözlerimi kapad?m. S?rça fanusun havas? çevremi sarm??t?, k?m?ldayam?yordum.

He didn't answer but reached over and put his hand at the root of my hair and ran his fingers out slowly to the tip ends like a comb. A little electric shock flared through me and I sat quite still. Ever since I was small I loved feeling somebody comb my hair. It made me go all sleepy and peaceful.