Quotes About Senses

although what is probably common to all religions is nothing more than the claim that something more exists than what we factually receive through our senses.

The highest achievement results from mastering one's senses. Wisdom comes when we are no longer interested in worldly things.

The soul is but senses catching fire, Marvellous music of the body's lyre, - The angel senses are the silver strings Stirred by the breath of some unknown desire.

Trees know when we're close by. The chemistry of their roots and the perfumes their leaves pump out change when we're near. . . . When you feel good after a walk in the woods

But the senses never have much chance, against the power of doctrine.

I love your smell, she said. I told her, "You don't love me. You love my microbiome.

Their fragrances alert

But the senses never have much chance, against the power of doctrine. "Well," the man on the ground says, "I'm sticking it to the old bastard now!

Miles couldn't help admiring women for their ability to dismiss the evidence of their senses. If that's what explained it. If it wasn't simply that from time to time they were unaccountably drawn to the grotesque.

Also her perfume, which mingled with the crisp air off the lake below, creating an intoxicating mixture of damp earth and leaves and water and girl. Not woman, in Sully's opinion. Girl.

Is good fiction more likely to be about the air we breathe or the nose we breathe it through?

There was a hunger for power reaching out of the senses of man and trying to say something in the symbols of action.

Taken together, it's almost a sure sign. The letters float off the page when you read, right? That's because your mind is hardwired for ancient Greek. And the ADHD-you're impulsive, can't sit still in the classroom. That's your battlefield reflexes. In a real fight, they'd keep you alive. As for the attention problems, that's because you see too much, Percy, not too little. Your senses are better than a regular mortal's.

I wonder if anyone else has an ear so tuned and sharpened as I have, to detect the music, not of the spheres, but of earth, subtleties of major and minor chord that the wind strikes upon the tree branches. Have you ever heard the earth breathe?

She was a grown young woman when she was overtaken by what she supposed to be the climax of her fate. It was when the face and figure of a great tragedian began to haunt her imagination and stir her senses. The persistence of the infatuation lent it an aspect of genuineness. The hopelessness of it colored it with the lofty tones of a great passion.

She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wears. The notes of a distant song which someone was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves. There were patches of blue sky showing here and there though the clouds that had met and pilled one above the other in the west facing her window.

Don't you love being alive? asked Miranda. Don't you love weather and the colors at different times of the day, and all the sounds and noises like children screaming in the next lot, and automobile horns and little bands playing in the street and the smell of food cooking? I love to swim, too. said Adam. So do I, said Miranda, we never did swim together.

certain smells were the custodians of memory. And once they were unleashed, their effect was instantaneous, like switching on a light – flooding the senses far too quickly and completely. They had the power to transport and overwhelm. For that reason, one needed to be wary of them.

Life is, after all, a sensual experience. Our senses have the power to truly transport us but also to ground us. Make us human.

Where's my clairvoyance when I need it? Hell, where are any of my senses?

The ancient dialogue between reason and the senses is almost always more interestingly and passionately resolved in favor of the senses.

T]he seductiveness of these unbridled and intense moods is powerful; and the ancient dialogue between reason and the senses is almost always more interestingly and passionately resolved in favor of the senses.

A poem needs understaning through the senses. The point of diving in a lake, is not immediately to swim to the shore, but to be in the lake; to luxuriate in the sensation of water. You do not work the lake out, it is an experience beyond thought. Poetry soothes and emboldens the soul to accept mystery.

Ralph's nostrils filled with a smell he loved: a mixture of sweating horses, wet dogs, leather, and blood. Ralph