The nostalgia I have been cherishing all these years is a hypertrophied sense of lost childhood, not sorrow for lost banknotes.
Why was it that thoughts and plans always made more sense when confined to one's mind than when they exited one's mouth?
...the more I know of the world, the more I am convinced that I shall never see a man whom I can really love.
Marianne could never love by halves; and her whole heart became, in time, as much devoted to her husband, as it had once been to Willoughby.
Besides my great fashion sense? I play a mean harmonica.
She was sensible and clever, but eager in everything; her sorrows, her joys, could have no moderation.
Sex is a different medium, refracting time and sense, a biological hyperspace as remote from conscious existence as dreams, or as water is from air
Is this how it is for a species that senses it is going extinct? Is there a feeling of loneliness, or unease, each morning, upon awakening?
Give me your wrists, Alayna. I sense your impatience, and I know exactly where you intend for those hands to go.
I shrieked like a little girl, which, if you think about it, makes total sense.
Something is happening. I sense a change in the wind…a mutual understanding of each other. I haven’t felt this way in forever.
There seems to be a sense of balance or equilibrium that nature attempts to achieve with the usage of cycles, leading us to the concept of self-organization and spontaneous order.
It is in our relations with other people that we gain a sense of ourselves; it's that, pretty much, that makes relations with other people unbearable.
You are addressed by the way you dress. Your attire reflects your sense of value or taste and of course, your speech either makes or mars you.
The future is there... looking back at us. Trying to make sense of the fiction we will have become.
don't even leap to actions and decisions before you've found that sense of natural calm, well-being, or enthusiasm.
A sense of wrongness, of fraught unease, as if long nails scraped the surface of the moon, raising the hackles of the soul.
I had come to regard him as a loner with no real past and a future so vague that there was no sense talking about it.
The world makes much less sense than you think. The coherence comes mostly from the way your mind works.
Is it any wonder that war is senseless? It’s started by politicians. As a class, politicians have no class, and even less sense.
Each memory was now the shadow of a shadow of a shadow. The only thing that remained tangible to him was the sense of absence.
