Quotes About Senses

Prayer—the art of believing what is denied by the senses—deals almost entirely with the subconscious. Through prayer, the subconscious is suggested into acceptance of the wish fulfilled, and, reasoning deductively, logically unfolds it to its legitimate end.

To passively surrender to the evidence of the senses underestimates the capacities of the Inner Self.

Many of us, either from too little emotion or too much intellect, both of which are stumbling blocks in the way of prayer, cannot believe that which our senses deny. To force ourselves to believe will end in greater doubt.

The assumption of the wish fulfilled is the high tide which lifts you easily off the bar of the senses where you have so long stranded. It lifts the mind into prophecy in the full right sense of the word; and if you have that controlled imagination and absorbed attention which it is possible to attain, you may be sure that all your assumption implies will come to pass.

Charles Mackay argued that people "go mad in herds, while they only recover their senses slowly, and one by one.

All work is knowledge work. The carpenter's mind is no less animated and engaged than the actuary's. The architect's accomplishments depend as much on the body and its senses as the hunter's do.

With the failure of the imagination to present form the mind discovers that it has the capacity to conceive of the infinite, and thus has the power to transcend everything that sense can measure and thus present. The sublime feeling in this case arises from the play between the finite nature of the senses and the infinite capacity of reason.

Truth smells like Chinese food and sweat.

Her knuckles smelled of garlic and, faintly, that sleepy, buttery-toast scent my brain was already beginning to recognize.

Between her bleeding days, at the waxing of the moon, her senses opened like a night lily.

Cei called more taunts, but she was smelling the wind and no longer listening.

Hild held Begu's hand, because Begu hadn't been walking this path for years and at night the world was different. Smells, sounds, shapes loomed from the shadow and were gone, moonlight turnd the shadows sharp and sleep. It was a bleached world of bone and stone and tin where magic walked.

An odd thing about perception is that when we identify some new thing with one or more of our five senses, it is not really, immutably real -- it is a passing will o' the wisp, an artifact of the senses and the translations of the brain until we get used to it and we give it a home in our hearts

Worship and meditate on your consciousness, the same consciousness which is in all living beings, indicated by the five sense organs and three gunas which supports your living and presence. Continue doing your activities; they will carry on spontaneously, but give attention to the knowledge that you are. Hold your beingness. Self-knowledge will tell you everything you need to know.

We have senses we don't know we have-until we lose them; balance is one that normally works so well, so seamlessly, that is not listed among the five that Aristotle described and was overlooked for centuries afterward.

We have senses we don't know we have—until we lose them; balance is one that normally works so well, so seamlessly, that it is not listed among the five that Aristotle described and was overlooked for centuries afterward.

How hard it is, sometimes, to trust the evidence of one's senses! How reluctantly the mind consents to reality.

The human physical senses must be emancipated from the sense of possession, and then the humanity of the senses and the human enjoyment of the senses will be achieved for the first time.

To romanticize the world is to make us aware of the magic, mystery and wonder of the world; it is to educate the senses to see the ordinary as extraordinary, the familiar as strange, the mundane as sacred, the finite as infinite.

Der Sinnenrausch ist zur Liebe, was der Schlaf zum Leben.

Everything she heard, everything she saw seemed to be in disagreement with her own manner of understanding and feeling. To her, the sun did not appear red enough, the nights pale enough, the skies deep enough. Her fleeting conception of things and beings condemned her fatally to a perversion of her senses, to vagaries of the spirit and left her nothing but the torment of an unachieved longing, the torture of unfulfilled desires.

Additional senses will appear: the feeling of lack, the taste of absence, the ability for particular precognition. Knowing what won't happen. Being able to smell what doesn't exist.

Reality has grown old and gone senile; after all, it is definitely subject to the same laws as every living organism—it ages. Just like the cells of the body, its tiniest components, the senses, succumb to apoptosis. Apoptosis is natural death, brought about by the tiredness and exhaustion of matter. In Greek this word means "the dropping of petals." The world has dropped its petals.

We have five senses in which we glory and which we recognize and celebrate, senses that constitute the sensible world for us. But there are other senses — secret senses, sixth senses, if you will — equally vital, but unrecognized, and unlauded.