Quotes About Sensations

All the sensations which a woman yields to her lover, she gives in exchange; they return to her always intensified; they are as rich in what they give as in what they receive. This is the kind of commerce in which almost all husbands end by being bankrupt.

Actually, time had always been passing. I had just managed to avoid thinking about it very much. It would be hard for me to recapture that feeling—life wasn't so easy anymore. Small things pricked my heart. In those early days, I lived in a world of overwhelming sensations; it was like I had just fallen out of love.

Cada vez que nos abrazábamos, conocí palabras que no eran palabras.

I'd just as lief hear a thing as see it any day. I saw some music once and it wasn't half as pretty to look at as it was when I heard it.

I don't have any words to describe the sensations that keep me from sleep. Demons, perhaps. A sense of unworthiness so staggering that I could not keep myself upright under its weight. And yet I could not sleep.

Where Am I Touching?

Some dreams, some poems, some musical phrases, some pictures, wake feelings such as one never had before, new in colour and form—spiritual sensations, as it were, hitherto unproved

The main thing I want us to be asking together is: What did we feel and where did we feel it? (All coherent intellectual work begins with a genuine reaction.)

'Tis the sharpness of our mind that gives the edge to our pains and pleasures.

When I meet people, I relay things I see and feel. And in a reading when I interact with a person, I'll pick up on sensations and feelings and piece them together to make a coherent thought. My goal is to always get specific information and relay details that people will connect to.

But anyone who has been that young knows that the great grief of love is that your body feels the most when it knows the least.

He touched my face; I could feel the heat of his fingers, and this time I did not flinch away, although I was trembling.

She raised her head when she heard my step, and her gaze met my own, over the matron's dipping shoulder, and her eyes grew bright. I knew then how hard it had been to keep, not just from Millbank but from her. I felt that little quickening. It was just as I imagine a woman must feel, when the baby within her gives its first kick. Does it matter if I feel that, that is so small, and silent, and secret?

his hand was warm, the fingers plump and bunchy and tight in their skin, like half-cooked sausages.

It's so stupid how someone touching you - just their skin on your skin - can make you feel all sorts of things you don't want to feel.

No, the next time i kiss you it'll last a long, long time. And then when we're done you're gonna realize being turned on is not about experience

And I know how he feels—it's so good it hurts. I think I'm going to die from happiness. I think I'm going to die from pain. Time has stopped; time is racing.

Ketamine's such a waste of time drug. All you do when you're on ketamine is go: 'Oh, I'm on drugs. I don't feel good, I don't feel bad, I'm just on drugs...'

She could smell the pages. She could almost taste the words as they stacked up around her.

She laughed and he felt her breath, and he thought about that warmness, how people were warm like that, from inside to out; how it could hit you and disappear, then back again, and nothing was ever permanent--

How many books had she touched? How many had she felt?

I could smell something. Fear. I could taste it now. It tasted like blood in my mouth, and I could feel it slide through me and open me up when I saw him ...

She enjoyed the small fragments of pain.

Her blood loudened.