#sense

Sensuality is the total mobilization of the senses: an individual observes his partner intently, straining to catch every sound. ↗

— Milan Kundera

#love #senses #sensuality #love

God probably thinks it’s worth giving a sense of humor only to those of us who have to laugh at all the rubbish bits that are wrong with us. ↗

— Allison Pearson

#love

Men and women have been taught so much about each other that they don't use their common sense et al! ↗

— Saurabh Sharma

#love #men-vs-women #love

Like a lot of freelance cartoonists, when any opportunity like that comes along, I have a hard time saying no, whether it makes sense or not. ↗

— Jim Woodring

#any #cartoonists #comes #freelance #hard

I was down in Washington when 9/11 happened. We were in the middle of putting together the next summer season, and all I could think of was something somehow must make sense to us. Our Town kept coming into my mind. ↗

— Joanne Woodward

#could #down #happened #i #into

Up until then it had only been himself. Up to then it had been a private wrestle between him and himself. Nobody else much entered into it. After the people came into it he was, of course, a different man. Everything had changed then and he was no longer the virgin, with the virgin's right to insist upon platonic love. Life, in time, takes every maidenhead, even if it has to dry it up; it does not matter how the owner wants to keep it. Up to then he had been the young idealist. But he could not stay there. Not after the other people entered into it. ↗

— James Jones

#emotions #indifference #sense-of-self #virginity #change

The thing that worries me is that I'm so different from other writers. Connecticut is just another state to me. And nature - well, nature is just nature. When I see a tree whose leafy mouth is pressed against the earth's sweet flowing breast, I think, 'Well, that's a nice-looking oak,' but it doesn't change my way of life. Now I'm not going to stand here and run down trees and flowers. Personally, I have three snake plants of my own, and in a tearoom I'm the first one to notice the geraniums. But the point is, I keep my head. ↗

— Jean Kerr

#sense-and-sensibility #writing #change

He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad. ↗

— Rafael Sabatini

#gift #laughter #mad #sense #world

At Bramasole, the first secret spot that draws me outside is a stump and board bench on a high terrace overlooking the lake and valley. Before I sit down, I must bang the board against a tree to knock off all the ants. Then I'm happy. With a stunted oak tree for shelter and a never-ending view, I am hidden. No one knows where I am. The nine-year-old's thrill of the hideout under the hydrangea comes back: My mother is calling me and I am not answering. ↗

— Frances Mayes

#home #italy #sense-of-place #home

This work is the link between my Dear Natalie piece and my upcoming Agatha work. It bridges that lapse in time and shows how my thinking has changed. It shows me telling a story through the surreal and trying to use thought fragments alone to show a tortured existence. This piece was written after the Dear Natalies and before the Agatha mystery, but it is meant to be read after you’ve already read both. This book is a bridge between two books, which would make it a bridge between two bridges. That’s strange, but I’ve seen stranger. Like the time I woke up in a fish tank, having morphed into a goldfish during my sleep. I still fear the sound of a flushing toilet, and since then I refuse to let myself fall asleep while wearing flippers. This book is 3,088 words of pure nonsense, strung together like pearls hurled at bacon. Yum! ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#bacon #biograhy #book-bio #books #bridge