Quotes About Sensory

Does blue have a smell?

ethereal , adj . You leaned your head into mine, and I leaned my head into yours. Dancing cheek to cheek. Revolving slowly, eyes closed, heartbeat measure, nature's hum. It lasted the length of an old song, and then we stopped, kissed, and my heart stayed there, just like that.

We hold hands as we walk through town. If anybody notices, nobody cares. I know we all like to think of the heart as the center of the body but at this moment, every conscious part of me is in the hand that he holds. It is through that hand, that feeling, that I experience everything else.

I'm swimming in your cadences that you permeate my very language.

I barely notice colors unless I taste them. Not the yellows or the greens. I taste the deeper blues. The darker reds.

It is real in such an intense way that it feels unreal, too.

i hold the cigarette like i'm in a black-and-white movie. but when jed lights the match, it spreads to color, his skin in the campfire light, the spark of his eyes as he leans in to me

it doesn't feel good or bad just a buzz of different.

My voice is blind, my hearing is mute, my sight is deaf. Art is science, mathematics is conversation, and music is something that bleeds. I am so far away that I am inside myself. I barely notice colors unless I taste them. Not the yellows or the greens. I taste the deeper blues. The darker reds.

The part I enjoy most is not the doing, but the noticing. Noticing the way she smells like oversugared coffee, and the difference between her smile and her photographed smile, and the way she bites her lower lip, and the pale skin of her back. I just want the pleasure of noticing these things at a safe distance-I don't want to have to acknowledge I am noticing.

That's not what it means, you told me. And anyway don't you feel naked now? You fell quiet, gestured for me to listen. The sound of the woods, the feel of the air. ... The sky, so present. And you, watching me take it all in. Naked to the world, the world naked to us.

This is how it feels to hold a pencil in her hand. This is how it feels to fill her lungs with air. This is how it feels to press her back against the chair. This is how it feels to touch her ear. This is what the world sounds like to her. This is what she hears every day.

Focused on nothing, open to everything- it's a state I fall into, where all my senses swap. My voice is blind, my hearing is mute, my sight is deaf. Art is science, mathematics is conversation, and music is something that bleeds. I am so far away that I'm inside myself. I barely notice colors unless I taste them. Not the yellows or the greens. I taste the deeper blues. The darker reds.

It would be great if the entire film came all at once. But it comes, for me, in fragments... In Blue Velvet, it was red lips, green lawns, and the song—Bobby Vinton's version of 'Blue Velvet.' The next thing was an ear lying in a field. And that was it.

the great all-embracing sound that rose from the dazzling earth, a layered music, dense but deeply flowing, that was clippered insects rubbing their legs together, bird-notes, grass-stems chaffing and fretting in the breeze.

I've finished answering the letters Alyssa gave me a few weeks back. One was from a woman who wrote that when deaf people get their hearing, they're always surprised that the sun makes no noise. They naturally assumed it would roar, though if it did, you'd think it might have been mentioned somewhere along the way, in songs at least. Maybe that's what they thought was meant by "I was awoken by the sun.

It is not unpleasant to hold someone else's warm teeth in your hand...

the taste of warm rain; the smell of a baby; the din of a swollen river, rushing past her tree and onward to infinity.

kinesthetic

It doesn't matter what planet you're on, there's nothing like biting into a crisp Fuji apple first thing in the morning.

Trees were not hard, irritable things, but discreetly orgasmic beings moaning at a level too deep for our brutish ears. And flowers were quick explosive orgasms, like making love in the shower.

Her awareness of her body was inseparable from her memory of his embrace.

Even if you took it as cascading snowy mountains,it was not a cool snow-white. The cold of the snow and it's warm colour made a kind of music.

He closed his eyes and the warmth sank into his head, bringing an immediate sense of life. Reality came through the violent breathing, and with a sort of nostalgic remorse. He felt as though he was waiting tranquilly for some undefined revenge.