Quotes About Sensory

New warmth stirred the air, and the wheat moved and eddied, with a whispered rustle, as if waking up.

Westwood said, "They call it anhedonia. The inability to experience pleasure.

Sleep that day was a warm pool in which I dove and stayed, sporadically lifting my head to sense the world.

Though you are unaware of it, when you run cool wine over your tongue, you don't just taste its chemical composition; you also taste its price.

Our brains are not simply recording a taste or other experience, they are creating it.

Science, indeed, is nothing more than the conceptual unravelling of sensory data; it has no other primary evidence from which to proceed.

The organ of perception acts more readily than judgment.

Painting is mute poetry, and poetry is blind painting

Painting is poetry which is seen and not heard, and poetry is a painting which is heard but not seen.

Look after the senses and the sounds will look after themselves

it had a sort of mixed flavor of cherry-tart, custard, pineapple, roast turkey, toffy and hot buttered toast

If we had better hearing, and could discern the descants of sea birds, the rhythmic tympani of schools of mollusks, or even the distant harmonics of midges hanging over meadows in the sun, the combined sound might lift us off our feet.

Minnows and catfish can recognize each member of their own species by his particular, person-specific odor. It is hard to imagine a solitary, independent, existentialist minnow, recognizable for himself alone; minnows in a school behave like interchangeable, identical parts of an organism. But there it is.

I'm floating inside my skin. I could go on floating like this for days. Right now, the real world with its heartbreak and disappointments is just a pulse against the protective membrane we've drunk ourselves into. It's somewhere outside us, waiting. A Great and Terrible Beauty, Page 141, by

He's attracted to the smell of manure, Felicity says. You might wallow in the stables to bring out the full flower of his love.

He's got a laugh like a machine gun firing through velvet.

The ground's soft with pine needles and the occasional crunch of a cone. The air smells like it's just been born.

You have underwear. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Did you try it on? Nah. Just rubbed it against my face.

As a picture painted in yellow always radiates spiritual warmth, or as one in blue has apparently a cooling effect, so green is only boring.

There are two worlds: The world that we can measure with line and rule, and the world we feel with our hearts and imaginations.

This is what love does and continues to do. It tastes like honey to adults and milk to children.

Enjoy the limitless bliss consciousness here and now. The reality of you lies much beyond your sensory perceptions and boundaries.

I soon discovered that one doesn't simply read Crime and Punishment or A Tree Grows in Brooklyn . One reads a certain edition, a specific copy, recognizable by the roughness or the smoothness of its paper, by its scent, by a slight tear on page 72 and a coffee ring on the right-hand corner of the back cover.

The various qualities of my readings seem to permeate my every muscle, so that, when I finally decide to turn off the library light, I carry into my sleep the voices and the movements of the book I've just closed.