Quotes About Revulsion

I loathe cheese, it makes me ill.

All disgust is originally disgust at touching.

But she'd never enjoyed it and she'd tried it with several different partners. She found the whole process rather revolting.

swollen bowels burst and an intolerable stench assailed the nostrils of bystanders

We should not believe we can comprehend the incomprehensible, we may not compare the incomparable, we may not inquire because to inquire is to make the horrors an object of discussion, even if the horrors themselves are not questioned, instead of accepting them as something in the face of which we can only fall silent in revulsion, shame, and guilt. Should we only fall silent in revulsion, shame, and guilt? To what purpose?

I don't find slashing and blood flying everywhere to be scary. I just find it repulsive.

The sight of burnt orange makes me puke.

What a shitbucket.

Some lives are exemplary, others not; and of exemplary lives, there are those which invite us to imitate them, and those which we regard from a distance with a mixture of revulsion, pity, and reverence.

To name a sensibility, to draw its contours and to recount its history, requires a deep sympathy modified by revulsion.

Some lives are exemplary, others not; and of exemplary lives, there are those which invite us to imitate them, and those which we regard from a distance with a mixture of revulsion, pity, and reverence. It is, roughly, the difference between the hero and the saint (if one may use the latter term in an aesthetic, rather than a religious sense).

In desperation Veronica opened her mouth wide and yawned loudly in Simon's face. To her dismay Simon yawned back happily. "Gosh, that's pretty funny, huh, Ronnie, how yawns are contagious. Of course, the lack of oxygen, which triggers the response of opening the mouth, can't scientifically be explained by—" Veronica regarded Simon with revulsion.

His face reminded Myron of a magnified photo of head lice.

She only felt revulsion for any kind if religious fundamentalists. The very thought if such people's intolerant worldview, their inflated sense of their own superiority, and thei callous imposition of their own beliefs on others was enough to fill her with rage.

Psychologically speaking (I'll only wheel out the amateur psychology just this once, so bear with me), encounters that call up strong physical disgust or revulsion are often in fact projections of our own faults and weaknesses.

I hate the rock music tradition. I can't bear it!

Well, I'm not good with sliminess. I hate the thought of creatures that have slime on them or creatures that leave a slimy trail. At home, the sight of a slug can bring up my breakfast.

What do you think I want with men? The beasts! I hate them. Blind, stupid, clumsy, horrible, heavy, vulgar things they are.

he stank more than any human joe had ever smelled, as if he had been dipped in some ungodly confection of camembert and rancid gasoline brewed up in a spit-filled cuspidor.

Things I will never like: 1. Drying off with a cold, damp towel. 2. The feeling of seaweed wrapping around my legs. 3. Anything that was popular in the 70's. 4. Licorice, yam, or raisins. 5. That high-pitched screech that babies make. 6. Writhing maggots.

If I who was previously revolting am now this far from my crazy self, how much further are you who were never revolting, and how much deeper your revulsion?

Cotton manufacturers understood that their prosperity was entirely dependent on the labor of slaves and they "dreaded the severity of the revulsion which must sooner, or later arrive.

The revulsion towards and violent detachment from nature leads to its desecration, to the destruction of the organic conception of the world as a cosmos, as an order of forms reflecting a higher meaning, as the 'visible manifestation of the invisible' - a conception (of Indo-European origin) which is an integral part of the Classical view of the world and which also lies at the basis of various forms of knowledge of a different sort compared to profane, modern science.

On 10 August 1914, five days after war was declared, Henry James, in a letter to a friend, expressed his revulsion at the prospect of war, and articulated the illusion that had preceded it: `Black and hideous to me is the tragedy that gathers, and I'm sick beyond cure to have lived on to see it. You and I, the ornaments of our generation, should have been spared the wreck of our beliefs that through the long years we had seen civilization grow and the worst become impossible.