Quotes About Sensory

With every smell, I smell food. With every sight, I see food. I can almost hear food. I want to spade the whole lot through my mouth at Mach 2. Basta!

I can kind of picture what I want to do and my body just does it. You feel your way through a trick. I close my eyes sometimes.

Who was the first person to walk into a harbor and say, "Whatever that horrible smell is I want to eat it"

We're always trying to really ground it, and I use this term a thousand times, it's a score I want people to feel and not necessarily hear.

I click my teeth together every time I want to take a mental picture of something, like, "Wow, what a beautiful sunset!" Slam your teeth together.

For a moment he could have sworn he smelled violets, which was very peculiar, since he had no idea what violets smelled like, except somehow he knew they smelled just like Lady Emma.

She was melting inside. Melting and burning all at the same time.

Love is blind, they say. But isn't it more that love makes us see too much? Isn't it more that love floods our brain with sights and sounds, so that everything looks bigger, brighter, more lovely than ever before?

Those moments that we remember. The tiniest moments or parts of a moment - a tap of a nail against a mug or the sound of a man swallowing, or how the sweeping beam finds the kitchen walls and then leaves them. We count the seconds, he and I.

She smells like chlorine, coconuts, and sunshine.

Her mouth trembled and parted and she began to gasp in light, shallow breaths that made her flushed breasts quiver deliciously, invitingly… He bent and touched a stiff pink nipple experimentally with his mouth, very gently. She jerked and cried out, exploding beneath him in a series of violent convulsions that almost unseated him.

The air she couldn't breathe was scorched, smelled like incense and tobacco, and the atmosphere was charged with an electric buzz of grace which, once you've experienced it, you will never forget.

I loved their home. Everything smelled older, worn but safe; the food aroma had baked itself into the furniture.

Humans have this need to express themselves through their mouths, and he supposes that this is because they are so poor with their noses.

I wrap my arms tightly around his neck before he can order me to do push-ups or something. Instead he pulls me in close and buries his face in my hair. Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips just touch my neck, slowly spreading through the rest of me. It feels so good, so impossibly good, that I know I will not be the first to let go.

Smells like home.

The place did kind of resemble a locker room if locker rooms were gorgeous and smelled good.

wrap my arms tightly around his neck before he can order me to do push-ups or something. Instead he pulls me in close and buries his face in my hair. Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips just touch my neck, slowly spreading through the rest of me. It feels so good, so impossibly good, that I know I will not be the first to let go.

where his lips just touch my neck, slowly spreading

His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. "Always," he murmurs.

Our guts can really mislead us. Sometimes, what we think of as our gut is something else, like an outside influence. If you're going to buy an apartment and it smells of freshly baked bread, you're more likely to want to buy it.

I look at it somewhat as a way - when you learn juggling, what you learn is how to feel with your eyes and see with your hands because you're not looking at your hands, you're looking at where the balls are, or you're looking at the audience.

A good song should give you a lot of images; you should be able to make your own little movie in your head to a good song.

The food being presented at the most expensive restaurants, by the most sophisticated chefs, was not always recognizable as food to the diner - it required a leap of faith, and I felt curious about that phenomenon.