Quotes About Senses

The mattress shifted as he turned to look at her. Perhaps the darkness would hide her weeping. A futile hope. She'd long ago noted the acuteness of his senses. "Oh, my dear." Unerringly, he reached out and captured a tear in his fingers. Another tear, another. She closed her eyes and struggled for composure. "Crying won't help," she said huskily. "Sometimes it's all we can do." His voice caressed her like black silk.

Life lines are entangled: candy cane and matsutake; matsutake and its host trees; host trees and herbs, mosses, insects, soil bacteria, and forest animals; heaving bumps and mushroom pickers. Matsutake pickers are alert to life lines in the forest; searching with all the senses creates this alertness. It is a form of forest knowledge and appreciation without the completeness of classification. Instead, searching brings us to the liveliness of beings experienced as subjects rather than objects.

Infants begin to see by noticing the edges of things. How do they know an edge is an edge? By passionately wanting it not to be. The experience of eros as lack alerts a person to the boundaries of himself, of other people, of things in general. It is the edge separating my tongue from the taste for which it longs that teaches me what an edge is.

Hearing is one of the first senses to develop in a foetus-the ear has already begun to be formed in an eight-week-old foetus, and three months later is structurally complete. When we go to sleep, our perception of sound is the last sense to close off, and when we awake the first to start up again. And hearing, it's claimed, is the last sense to die at the end of life.

Dans la rue des Santi Apostoli, odeur forte du crottin, lavé régulièrement par les machines. Une grosse femme est assise sur le trottoir, on voit sa culotte très propre et blanche, soulignant une vulve proéminente. Depuis que ma mère est morte, je ne détourne plus les yeux de telles scènes avec gêne.

Our culture, so proud of its mind-over-matter philosophy, cuts us off from our bodily experience and from the earth itself. In this severance, our sexuality is negated, our senses assaulted, our environment abused, and our power manipulated. Our ground is our form, and without it we lose our individuality.

'Mosaic' is about what we see and what we don't see. I learned how people can develop other senses to compensate for a missing one when I was a child. My best friend, Carol, who is profoundly deaf, saved me from an approaching car that she 'heard' when I didn't.

Different fragrances promote different emotions, and I find that fragrance gets me in the frame of mind for that person.

I have left behind illusion,' I said to myself. 'Henceforth I live in a world of three dimensions - with the aid of my five senses.' I have since learned that there is no such world, but then, as the car turned out of sight of the house, I thought it took no finding, but lay all about me at the end of the avenue.

Henceforth I live in a world of three dimensions—with the aid of my five senses." I have since learned that there is no such world

He must have looked up at an unfamiliar sky through frightening leaves and shivered as he found what a grotesque thing a rose is. and how raw the sunlight was upon the scarcely created grass.

All life was transmitted into terms of their love, all experience, all desires, all ambitions, were nullified - their senses of humour crawled into corners to sleep;

The "pure spirit" is a piece of pure stupidity: take away the nervous system and the senses, the so-called "mortal shell," and the rest is miscalculation—that is all!...

I have no philosophy, I have senses . . . If I speak of Nature it's not because I know what it is But because I love it, and for that very reason, Because those who love never know what they love Or why they love, or what love is. To love is eternal innocence, And the only innocence is not to think . .

Pensar uma flor é vê-la e cheirá-la E comer um fruto é saber-lhe o sentido.

Sim, eis o que os meus sentidos aprenderam sozinhos: — As cousas não têm significação: têm existência. As cousas são o único sentido oculto das cousas.

Creo en el mundo como en una margarita porque lo veo. Pero no pienso en él, porque pensar es no comprender... El mundo no se hizo para pensar en él (pensar es estar enfermo de los ojos) sino para mirar hacia él y estar de acuerdo... Yo no tengo filosofía: tengo sentidos... Si hablo de la Naturaleza no es porque sepa lo que es sino porque la amo, y la amo por eso, porque quien ama nunca sabe lo que ama ni sabe por qué ama, ni lo que es amar...

Eu não tenho filosofia: tenho sentidos... Se falo na Natureza não é porque saiba o que ela é, Mas porque a amo, e amo-a por isso, Porque quem ama nunca sabe o que ama Nem sabe por que ama, nem o que é amar... Amar é a eterna inocência, E a única inocência não pensar...

I'm older than Time and Space, because I'm conscious. Things derive from me; the whole of Nature is the offspring of my sensations. I seek and I don't find. I want and can't have. Without me the sun rises and expires; without me the rain falls and the wind howls. It's not because of me that there are seasons, the twelve months, time's passage. Lord of the world in me which, like earthly lands, I can't take with me (...)

Seeing and hearing are the only noble things that life contains. The other senses are plebeian and carnal. The only aristocracy lies in not touching. Do not get too close — that is true nobility.

Creio no mundo como num malmequer, Porque o vejo. Mas não penso nele Porque pensar é não compreender... O Mundo não se fez para pensarmos nele (Pensar é estar doente dos olhos) Mas para olharmos para ele e estarmos de acordo... Eu não tenho filosofia: tenho sentidos... Se falo na Natureza não é porque saiba o que ela é, Mas porque a amo, e amo-a por isso, Porque quem ama nunca sabe o que ama Nem sabe por que ama, nem o que é amar...

No tengo filosofía: tengo sentidos... Si hablo de la Naturaleza no es porque sepa qué es sino porque la amo, y la amo por eso, porque quien ama nunca sabe lo que ama, ni sabe por qué ama, y qué es amar... Amar es la eterna inocencia, y la única inocencia, no pensar.

Eu não tenho filosofia: tenho sentidos... Se falo na Natureza não é porque saiba o que ela é, Mas porque a amo, e amo-a por isso, Porque quem ama nunca sabe o que ama Nem sabe porque ama, nem o que é amar... Amar é a eterna inocência, E a única inocência é não pensar...

Fiction operates through the senses, and I think one reason that people find it so difficult to write stories is that they forget how much time and patience is required to convince through the senses. No reader who doesn't actually experience, who isn't made to feel, the story is going to believe anything the fiction writer merely tells him. The first and most obvious characteristic of fiction is that it deals with reality through what can be seen, heard, smelt, tasted, and touched.