Quotes About Sensory

It stinks of trains and that chili with the chocolate in it. Ooooh, books! he exclaimed suddenly, making a beeline for the small library. (Al)

I took a breath, seeing from across the room the rain on his eyelashes. A sudden need to brush them free filled me. I could almost feel the dampness of the rain on my fingers, how soft it would feel.

The energy tasted like books, and I imagined we were still in the semipublic areas.

to be free of all restraint, minimally clothed, lying on the bare surface of a planet, sucking in its atmosphere as if it were an aqua vitae, feeling in your chest how it kept you alive!

He turned off the phone, returned it to the safe. He checked the particulate meter on the wall: 1300 ppm. This for fine particulates, 25 nanometers and smaller. He went out onto the street again, staying in the shade of buildings. Everyone was doing that; no one stood in the sun now. Gray air lay on the town like smoke. It was too hot to have a smell, there was just a scorched sensation, a smell like heat itself, like flame.

La consciencia se entiende tan poco que ni siquiera puede definirse de manera apropiada. El yo es algo escurridizo, buscado con denuedo, aferrado con fuerza, quizá con algo de miedo, una especie de desesperado abrazo al primer atisbo de consciencia, consciencia incluso de las impresiones sensoriales, para que uno pueda tener algo a lo que aferrarse. Para detener el tiempo. Para contener a la muerte. Esta es la fuente del fuerte sentido del yo. Quizá.

he could sense her breathing, her temple against his jaw and her shoulder under his hand were warm, her hair smelt of well-brushed hair, he could feel the presence of her body...

Og jeg var så kjær i ham, å hele verden blev borte når han kom. Jeg husker en mand som kunde komme gående! Han hadde fuldskjæg, han var som et dyr, han stanset iblandt og holdt den ene fot oppe og lyttet, så gik han videre. Han brukte også skindklær.

We're more cerebral than physical. Your cerebrum can't have an orgasm.

she could detect his scent: evergreen, copper, and . . . male.

I think I could get full just smelling this.

I feel the weight of his chest on top of me as he finally collapses; I close my eyes and try to bring myself back to earth. I might have been safer at Dave

I can touch you with a thought.

toward the end she was she was wearing nothing but seven beads, four of them sweat

I wonder if perfume could set a man drunk.

Since our inner experiences consist of reproductions, and combinations of sensory impressions, the concept of a soul without a body seem to me to be empty and devoid of meaning.

The object of our lives is to look at, listen to, touch, taste things. Without them, - these sticks, stones, feathers, shells, - there is no Deity.

You grow up trying to interpret, worshipping, visual symbols. It's a body-soaked imagery that you're looking at.

I'm a little vague on the details but aren't doughnuts just the most marvellous thing to ever come out of organised religion?

You can never have too much butter - that is my belief. If I have a religion, that's it.

There is a garden in her eyes, where roses and white lilies flow.

Being kissed by a man who didn't wax his moustache was-like eating an egg without salt.

She felt the dampness of her palms and wiped them on the back of her black cotton skirt.

but this girl simply let my hands gather on her own small, plump hands, like flies gathering on someone who is taking a nap.