Quotes About Sensory

The stuff was like nitric acid, and moreover, in swallowing it one had the sensation of being hit on the back of the head with a rubber club.

Beauty as we feel it is something indescribable; what it is or what it means can never be said.

Having come so close to losing everything, I am freed now of all fear, hesitation, and timidity, and, once revived, intend to devoutly wander the earth, imbibing, smelling, sampling, loving whomever I please; touching, tasting, standing very still among the beautiful things of this world

Parfois, tu rêves que le sommeil est une morte lente qui te gagne, une anestésie douce et terrible à la fois, une nécrose heureuse : le froid monte le long de tes jambes, le long de tes bras, monte lentement, t'engourdit, t'annihile. Ton orteil est une montagne lointaine, ta jambe un fleuve, ta joue est ton oreiller, tu loges tout entier dans ton pouce, tu fonds, tu coules comme du sable, comme du mercure.

Sunday lay so heavily in the air as to become almost nauseating. Maigret used to claim openly, half seriously, half in fun, that he had always had the knack of sensing a Sunday from his bed, without even having to open his eyes.

A writer should write with his eyes and a painter paint with his ears.

Everybody gets so much information all day long that they lose their common sense. They listen so much that they forget to be natural. This is a nice story.

A cool red rose and a pink cut pink, a collapse and a sold hole, a little less hot. - Red roses.

SUSIE ASADO Sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet tea. Susie Asado. Sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet tea. Susie Asado. Susie Asado which is a told tray sure. A lean on the shoe this means slips slips hers.

No, she replied, you see I feel with my eyes and it does not make any difference to me what language I hear, I don't hear a language, I hear tones of voice and rhythms, but with my eyes I see words and sentences and there is for me only one language and that is english.

My mother worked in a chocolate factory, so when I came home from school, I had a piece of baguette with dark chocolate in it. I remember her smelling like chocolate.

Asian food is very easy to like because it hits your mouth very differently than European food does. In European food, there may be two things to hit - maybe sweet and salty, maybe salty-savory, but Asian kind of works around, plus you have that distinct flavor that's usually working in Asian food.

I don't know what I was expecting the World Cup to be like. I never thought to ask anybody; maybe I should have. I've never played in a stadium with, like, 20,000 watching. It was an intense sensory experience.

When a herd of cattle see a strange object, they are not satisfied till each one has sniffed it; and the horse is cured of his fright at the robe, or the meal-bag, or other object, as soon as he can be induced to smell it. There is a great deal of speculation in the eye of an animal, but very little science.

I love seeing Tim Hecker perform because the experience truly shakes me.

I won't go anywhere near the new Times Square. It's seizure-inducing.

There's something about the theater which makes my fingertips tingle.

It's the idea of a multi-sensory experience stemming from music that opened my interest into painting, to be honest.

The problem with listening to music today is that there's so much of it everywhere. We've got used to hearing music without actually listening to it.

I have a very good sense of my body and where it's at. Although I don't feel the ground in the same way that somebody else would, I'm very aware... I can feel pressure, and I know exactly where my toes are and exactly where my heel is.

Tokyo's like a huge pinball machine. The first time you're there, and you don't understand what's going on, it's like 'ding ding ding ding ding' everywhere. The lights are changing, the neon lights are moving.

Sounds buzz around me, and I'm sure the painted dragonflies have come loose from the frieze on our walls to flap their wings in my ears, making my skin prickle and crawl as tides of sickness wash me away.

I don't see how sugar could make that cornbread any sweeter than the prints of your hands already have.

Gideon was there, warm and green and smelling slightly of cloves but not at all of bitterness and death, and I could hear no voices in my head at all.