Quotes About Sensory

Their lips touched now, mouths pursed tight, their eyes open, both of them stock still. The moment held, a kind of such glorious confusion.

I press my lips hard against hers, tasting her desire, her pain, her love, her confusion. At once I'm in two lives, two worlds, two places.

...the wet brush of snowflakes was like your kisses everywhere ...

I could taste the salt on her lips, each kiss like a summer wave breaking on an empty beach.

Knowing beauty is not what can be described but felt, upon looking at something beautiful.

When you fondle meWith your feathery hands, Then…! I feelThe cabal's of fireflyCreep into my soul

When we cannot see, we don't judge. Small wonder when we kiss, cry, laugh, make love, are in pain, pray and listen to music, we close our eyes.

Your conscious mind receives information through the five senses of sight, smell, taste, hearing, and touch. Your conscious mind keeps track of what you need for thinking and operating, and it filters out what you don't need. Your conscious mind (and what your memory retains) is the intelligence with which you normally think, reason, and plan.

Feeling is of the heart and nerves and the crudeness of its expression has nothing to do with its intensity.

Touch is a freaky thing when you're not used to it. It makes you feel all kinds of things.

Her voice makes perfume when she speaks, Her breath is music faint and low.

La Terre est un gâteau plein de douceur.

Viens, mon beau chat, sur mon coeur amoureux; Retiens les griffes de ta patte, Et laisse-moi plonger dans tes beaux yeux, Mêlés de métal et d'agate.

Laisse-moi mordre longtemps tes tresses lourdes et noires. Quand je mordille tes cheveux élastiques et rebelles, il me semble que je mange des souvenirs.

I pushed up against her warm tail and was asleep in 45 seconds.

people who eat 3 meals a day throughout life have never really tasted Food...

The doorbell rang like a rape, or the tearing of ripe flesh.

I asked what she thought that voice might sound like—the voice of people attuned to tension and cloth, people who saw the stones of the world charged with spirit, people who had never seen animals larger than a llama, people who broke the world into complementary halves and thought more in terms of up and down than north and south, people who took in information about the world through their fingers. "Foreign," she said.

All eyes were eagerly fixed on the low wooded hills which slept in the moonlight, spangled by fireflies, with a million dancing stars; all nostrils drank greedily the fragrant air, which swept from the land, laden with the scent of a thousand flowers; all ears welcomed, as a grateful change from the monotonous whisper and lap of the water, the hum of insects, the snore of the tree-toads, the plaintive notes of the shore-fowl, which fill a tropic night with noisy life.

The universe is a brightly colored blur of fast-moving shapes augmented by deafening noises.

Personally I blame the Flynn effect—in reverse. They come from a background of sensory deprivation. It's nothing that a course of neural growth enhancers can't fix in a year or two

The rich smell of life uneaten.

Each day has a color, a smell.

My show is a sensory assault... in a very brief manner - the show is only 25 minutes long.