Quotes About Sensation

The closer the bird is to the surface of the water, the firmer and more inelastic is the uplift of the rising air. The bird appears to almost feel the surface with the tip of its weather wing.

When we are touched by something it's as if we're being brushed by an angel's wings.

I think pain is a very - it's an extremely hard thing to empathize moment to moment. And you often don't remember your own pain, you know, that moment that you broke a limb or you burned yourself or, I think, this is a common thing that women talk about with childbirth, that the memory of the pain is hard to summon up and relive, thankfully.

Feel is the most perplexing part of golf, and probably the most important.

Wyndham's is a beautiful old theatre. The sensation on the stage isn't as different as you might think from the Royal Court.

Unease is not an emotion I get often in the theatre, and I like it.

My sister and I created a show called 'The Real Life Brady Bunch,' which was sort of a theatrical sensation that got us attention in L.A. and New York.

'London' is a gallery of sensation of impressions. It is a history of London in a thematic rather than a chronological sense with chapters of the history of smells, the history of silence, and the history of light. I have described the book as a labyrinth, and in that sense in complements my description of London itself.

I'm a melody guy. To me, that's a musical souvenir people take from a movie. They remember a theme or a feeling, and if they've had a good or bad experience it evokes that sensation whenever they hear it again.

Sillage, I thought. The lingering impression of a kiss having ended.

They say your skin is the largest organ in your body, but I'd never really appreciated that before, the way his fingertips slowly tracing the curve of my jaw could travel down the entire length of my body, covering me in goose bumps. The way he could make me feel flushed with something that wasn't fever.

A long time ago I learned to fear pains that arise at the top of my body, toothaches or migraines, but now I have discovered the extraordinary range of the information network. Somewhere, far away from my brain, a piece of leather is cutting into my heel, but even so my brain receives the information perfectly.

She'd never known fear had a taste, but it did.

It all came back. Every bone in my body turned hot. Then I couldn't make it stop. All those memories. Whatever kept them stored away broke. There was a rush of sensation through me, then nothing. And for days afterward, I'd get overwhelmed with a sound or the way my shirt rubbed against my arm or a smell. Like my body remembered and reminded the rest of me.

The beauty of the sensation was so intense that fear dropped away. It felt like a kind of birth. She opened her eyes. Sunlight through a foggy window. A green plant on a shelf. The dim delicious fall air. She was a new baby—skin frail as paper, arms weak as milk, brain forming shapes into thought.

Music conveys to us itself!

Apertava ao peito a minha dor taciturna, com uma sensação única, uma coisa a que poderia chamar volúpia do aborrecimento. Volúpia do aborrecimento: decora esta expressão, leitor; guarda-a, examina-a, e se não chegares a entendê-la, podes concluir que ignoras uma das sensações mais sutis desse mundo e daquele tempo. As

Esse primeiro palpitar da seiva, essa revelação da consciência a si própria, nunca mais me esqueceu, nem achei que lhe fosse comparável qualquer outra sensação da mesma espécie. Naturalmente por ser minha. Naturalmente também por ser a primeira.

Her body was Yvonne's too, her legs, her breasts, her pounding passionate heart, electricity crackled under his fingers running over her, though the sentimental illusion was going, it was sinking into a sea, as though it had not been there, it had become the sea, a desolate horizon with one huge black sailing ship, hull down, sweeping into the sunset; or her body was nothing, an abstraction merely, a calamity, a fiendish apparatus for calamitous sickening sensation; it was disaster.

Winning and losing are feelings; something in us knows if we have won or lost.

I am caught. And he? What does he feel? I am invaded, I lose everything, my mind vacillates, I am only aware of sensation.

I love the abstract, delicate, profound, vague, voluptuously wordless sensation of living ecstatically.

It was unreal because I live only in the depths. When I come to the surface for pleasure, I don't live. I live only in passion, pain, depths, darkness. But I try to breathe above of the deep ocean of sensation.

I love the sharing. I feel with extraordinary vividness your presence, as if you were reading with me. I actually experience again the sensation of my leaning over your shoulder and kissing your hair and neck while you are reading or writing.