Quotes About Sensory

Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers.

The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was.

The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water; the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggar'd all description.

Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colored taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.

A faint mist of perspiration clung to her skin like aphrodisia

I was feeling in my mind a sensation close to, but indescribably different from, actual pain.

For how would he explain to her that the sluggish bilgewater which twice, when he called the paper, lapped the receiver at the other end seemed to evoke the same squelch as her piano-key armpits.

A realidade é chata, mas ainda é o único lugar onde se pode comer um bom bife

My ears were full. Nothing more, not one more sound, could push into them and be registered.

I went about the job in a direct way. I took the hatchet in both my hands and vigorously beat the fish on the head with the hammerhead (I still didn't have the stomach to use the sharp edge). The dorado did the most extraordinary thing as it died: it began to flash all kinds of colours in rapid succession. Blue, green, red, gold, and violet flickered and shimmered neon-like on its surface as it struggled. I felt I was beating a rainbow to death.

I wish I could convey the perfection of a seal slipping into water or a spider monkey swinging from point to point or a lion merely turning it's head. But language founders in such seas. Better to picture it in your head if you want to feel it.

A movie is so visually powerful, so overwhelming, that it tends to crowd out how you might have imagined things.

de la misma forma que alzamos los brazos automáticamente cuando resbalamos sobre hielo, las piernas y pies instintivamente caen con más fuerza cuando perciben una superficie blanda. Cuando corremos con zapatillas con protección, los pies van a través de las suelas en busca de una superficie dura, estable. «Llegamos

You know what kind of nerves are in your feet? The same ones that network into your genitals.

inside or the outside. I touched paper. I spread

Her clothes still smoked from the wizard's assault. But to him, she always smelled of flowers.

a padded, black leather spanking bench. About two and a half feet high, two feet wide and three feet in length, it was designed so a sub could drape their upper body comfortably over the bench, ass and cunt on full display. Bondage straps were spaced at intervals along both the bench and the leg rests on either side, allowing for complete immobilization. An added feature he especially liked was the padded armrests at the front of the bench, wrist cuffs at the ready.

lost herself in the sensations as she tumbled, not down, but up, up, up into the stars. She was floating in that rarified submissive space some called flying. She was dimly aware he was still striking her, but she no longer felt any pain. She drifted deep inside the silent perfection of her personal nirvana, her brain finally silent, joy permeating every fiber of her being…

Here is a moment of extravagant beauty: I drink it liquid from the shells of my hands and almost all of it runs sparkling through my fingers: but beauty is like that, it is a fraction of a second, quickness of a flash and then immediately it escapes.

I am not an intellectual, I write with my body. And what I write is a moist fog.

To write you I first cover myself with perfume.

Y cada cosa que me suceda yo la vivo aquí anotándola. Porque quiero sentir en mis manos indagadoras el nervio vivo y trémulo del hoy.

Escrevo-te toda inteira e sinto um sabor em ser e o sabor-a-ti é abstracto como o instante.

Eu não sou um intelectual, escrevo com o corpo. E o que escrevo é uma névoa úmida. As palavras são sons transfundidos de sombras que se entrecruzam desiguais, estalactites, renda, música transfigurada de órgão.