Quotes About Sensations

The scent is sweet and meloncholy. A bit like dying, a bit like falling in love.

The child's body moves the way a body can move before it has felt or even encountered the idea of pain.

And I and him, and him and me. (I will always remember that he tasted like cigarettes and something passing sweet, which I could not quite identify.) Andiandhimandhimandme. (And so on.)

Strange bits of scarlet dreams drifted back to her. Thrilling sensations aroused by the most indecent liberties, and dear me , she thought with a flutter in the pit of her belly, the gorgeous firelit image of a naked man like a demigod coming towards her.

Tallmadge wrote more than fifty years later. "I well remember my sensations on the occasion, for they were solemn beyond description, and very hardly could I bring my mind to be willing to attempt the life of a fellow-creature.

As you learn anything, in fact, your brain is constantly checking current experience against stored templates—essentially memory—of previous, similar situations and sensations, asking "Is this new?" and "Is this something I need to attend to?

as intense heat and cold, though unlike, produce like sensations, so innocence and guilt, when, through casual association with mental pain, stamping any visible impress, use one seal- a hacked one.

a face which would have been a very fine one but for its haggardness. Whether this haggardness had aught to do with criminality, could not be determined; since, as intense heat and cold, though unlike, produce like sensations, so innocence and guilt, when, through casual association with mental pain, stamping any visible impress, use one seal--a hacked one.

Nes visa tai ?vyko plakant mano širdžiai; buvo v?jas, saul? ir debesys, visi jie sruvo per mano šird? ir per mano rankas.

It was thought, perception, sensations that interested her, the conscious mind as a river through time, and how to represent its onward roll, as well as all the tributaries that would swell it, and the obstacles that would divert it. If only she could reproduce the clear light of a summer's morning

I've heard it argued that long ago pain begat consciousness...Adversity forced awareness on us, and it works, it bites us when we go too near the fire, when we love too hard. Those felt sensations are the beginning of the invention of the self...God said, Let there be pain. And there was poetry. Eventually.

Adversity forced awareness on us, and it works, it bites us when we go too near the fire, when we love too hard. Those felt sensations are the beginning of the invention of the self. And if that works, why not feeling disgust for shit, fearing the cliff edge and strangers, remembering insults and favours, liking sex and food? God said, Let there be pain. And there was poetry. Eventually. So what's the use of

Our desires permeate our perceptions

Ils étaient au-delà du présent, en dehors du temps, sans souvenirs et sans futur. Il n'y avait plus qu'une sensation qui effaçait tout, excitante et envahissante, et le son de l'étoffe sur l'étoffe, de la peau sur l'étoffe, tandis que leurs membres se coulaient l'un par-dessus l'autre dans cette lutte sensuelle et sans relâche.

My advice to newborns: don't cry, look around, taste the air.

I have tried to present my sensations in what is the most congenial and impressive form possible to me.

Harold, like the rest of us, had many impressions which saved him the trouble of distinct ideas.

They are the sentinels of futility. Acquitors of the absurd. Reflections of ourselves, forever trapped in aimless repetition. Forever indistinct, for that is all we can manage when we look upon ourselves, upon our lives. Sensations, memories and experiences, the fetid soil in which thoughts take root. Pale flowers beneath an empty sky.

But it seemed to him the world was brighter, more intense, more alive than he had remembered. Colours were more vibrant, shimmering; the scents of ordinary things, wet pavement, bricks in sunlight, unripe peaches, felt layered and dizzyingly complex.

The sounds he had perceived were no more than rogue emotions and memories, echoing from wall to wall.

Ays shrugged and threw back his head to lower the hela frond into his open mouth. It tasted yeasty and salty upon his tongue and swiftly extended tender fingers of manipulation into his mind.

She remembered the flavor of the dreams, the wet stark fear of them, but the images eluded her. For that, she was grateful.

He had a strong urge to wipe his hands after touching the boy. This was no Daniel.

Neither of them particularly understood what they were feeling because they were very innocent and neither of them had any idea what the strange sensations in their bodies could mean or how they could be satisfied.