Quotes About Sensory

His manhood glistened wetly.

The air smelled of salt and frying fish, of hot tar and honey, of incense and oil and sperm.

To the one with her head out the window, drinking the rain.

I've sometimes imagined that if sin had a flavor, it might very well be bacon. It even tastes smoky, as if it emerged piping hot out of the fiery pans of hell.

The absent and inert girl hanging dreamless from my arms is no more foreign to me than the door or window through which I can look or pass.

My first memory is of light -- the brightness of light -- light all around.

Wine ... changing even as we taste it, delivers a message with meaning only in our response. If we are in the right key when we receive it, our eyes will shine and we shall radiate pleasure.

Roger and I would make our way down through the breathless olive groves, vibrating with the cries of the cicadas, and pad our way along the dusty road, Roger sneezing voluptuously as his great paws stirred up the dust, which went up his nose like snuff.

where the streets were two-donkeys narrow and the air always redolent of freshly baked bread, fruit, sunshine and drains in equal quantities

He loves to eat - he puts mayonnaise on an aspirin.

The aim of law is the maximum gratification of the nervous system of man.

I base most of my fashion taste on what doesn't itch.

Our hearts were drunk with a beauty our eyes could never see.

Venice is like eating an entire box of chocolate liqueurs in one go.

I like reality. It tastes of bread.

When she raises her eyelids it's as if she were taking off all her clothes.

Television is chewing gum for the eyes.

The veins stood out on her angry temples like wormcasts.

A vid comes to you, even at you. It's visual, it's auditory, and can, of course, pull you in. Its purpose is to do just that, draw you into the world you see and hear. But a book? You go into it. There's no visual or auditory other than what forms in your own mind. You visualize the characters, the scene, through the words. You, as reader, interpret the tone of voice, the colors, the movement as you physically turn the pages.

every degree of despair and hope that slithered its way across the littered street to crawl over her skin.

He stroked the cat's neck and sent him into ecstasy.

To thinking, cogitation, I oppose fullness, embodiedness, the sensation of being – not a consciousness of yourself as a kind of ghostly reasoning machine thinking thoughts, but on the contrary the sensation – a heavily affective sensation – of being a body with limbs that have extension in space, of being alive to the world.

Hunde la cabeza en la camiseta del niño. ¿Es pura imaginación suya o la tela conserva aún el leve olor a canela de la piel del niño?

On the backs of her lids,all she saw were the bare-naked breasts laid out before him,his dark head descending,his tongue flicking free of his mouth...and then his eyes lifting and meeting hers.