Quotes About Sensory

each will form universal images according to the conditioning of his body.

Sycamore seed twirling,O, writhe to its measure!Dust swirling trims pleasure.Thorns prance in a gale.In air snow flickers,twigs tap,elms drip.Swaggering, shimmering fall,drench and towel us all!

As far away as you can get from the process of mechanisms and machinery, the more likely your food's going to taste good. And that--that is probably the largest thing I can hand to anybody is let your hands touch it.

Food is much better off the hand than the fork.

When you taste things in the right order, sometimes they taste so much different than if you taste them out of order. Not that there's a right order, like by rule, but just like in a thoughtful way that makes sense.

Monroe started to play again. The piano was warming up, the keys firm beneath his fingertips, the pedals amplifying or dampening, the melodies he played rising up from beneath the lid in curves and curls as if they were printed on the air like Braille.

The whole world, as we experience it visually, comes to us through the mystic realm of color.

Young children especially are receiving so much of the world through their ears and their eyes, particularly if they're pre-literate. So engaging them with sound, particularly sound that stirs them emotionally because of the sequence of notes, will make them pay attention.

I think when I listen to old records, it puts me back in the atmosphere of what it felt like to make the record and who was there and what the room looked like. It's more a sensory memory.

I definitely associate music with color. For example, my first record has a red cover but it is totally green and blue to me.

That red carpet has to be felt to be believed.

It is only when light is reduced that the pupil opens and feeling goes out of the eyes like touch.

I'll refer to my music in color, like 'This song needs to be bright red.'

If I drink coffee, I have to turn the lights off and lay down. I can't handle it.

When you listen to a Yes album, you should listen to the whole thing through headphones with the lights off.

For me, Heaven is evoking emotions through sound.

The difference between me and a lot of other people is I can feel the effect of light, space, furniture, height, scale, distance, all these micro-environments affect me in a strong way.

The best part about doing 'Wuthering Heights' was you were completely in that world. It could not have been done with CGI. You had to be there.

We love high-end art, but when you're looking at high-end art in music, a lot of the time, it's appreciated academically, but you can't feel it as much.

You must try to divorce your actions from conscious control. Try not to focus on anything concrete, visually or mentally. You must let your mind drift, drift; only then you can use the force. You have to enter to a state in which you act on what you sense, not on what you think beforehand. You must cease cognition, relax, stop thinking... let yourself drift... free... free...

You must try to divorce your actions from conscious control. Try not to focus on anything concrete, visually or mentally. You must let your mind drift, drift; only then can you use the force. You have to enter a state in which you act on what you sense, not on what you think beforehand. You must cease cogitation, relax, stop thinking Ã¢â'¬Â¦ let yourself drift Ã¢â'¬Â¦ free Ã¢â'¬Â¦ free Ã¢â'¬Â¦

He was conscious of nothing except the blankness of the page in front of him, the itching of the skin above his ankle, the blaring of the music, and a slight booziness caused by the gin.

It was a life that wore you out, used up every ounce of your energy, and kept you profoundly, unquestionably happy. In the literal sense of the word, it stupefied you. The long days in the fields, the coarse food and insufficient sleep, the smell of hops and wood smoke, lulled you into an almost beastlike heaviness. Your wits seemed to thicken, just as your skin did, in the rain and sunshine and perpetual fresh air.

was a life that wore you out, used up every ounce of your energy, and kept you profoundly, unquestionably happy. In the literal sense of the word, it stupefied you. The long days in the fields, the coarse food and insufficient sleep, the smell of hops and wood smoke, lulled you into an almost beastlike heaviness. Your wits seemed to thicken, just as your skin did, in the rain and sunshine and perpetual fresh air.