Supersensitiveness Quotes & Sayings

The purpose of abstraction is not to be vague, but to create a new semantic level in which one can be absolutely precise. — Edsger Dijkstra

It would take time, he knew - for it to stop hurting, to let go. But the pain wouldn't last forever. — Sarah J. Maas

I'm utterly androgynous, and I truly love it. It's been part of my identity for so long. I've never been that pretty girl, and I wouldn't want to be. — Erin O'Connor

Karl Lagerfeld never touched a pair of scissors in his life. — Azzedine Alaia

We are born to inquire into truth; it belongs to a greater to possess it — Michel De Montaigne

Of mystery there is no end. Of clarity, there is precious little. — Leonard Michaels

If you're a human being, you can attempt to do what other human beings have done. We don't understand talent any more than we understand electricity. — Maya Angelou

You can't push anything to happen if you can't push a blanket off your body at fajr. — Suhaib Webb

Showing the skills more of a high-school debater than a barrister, Brandis blustered in the Senate that 'people do have a right to be bigots'. — Peter Van Onselen

Were our affections filled, taken up, and possessed with these things ... what access could sin, with its painted pleasures, with its sugared poisons, with its envenomed baits, have unto our souls? — John Owen

Tall, blond, and immortal." "Viking vampire assassins," Murphy said, barely stifling a sneer. "Sounds like the subject of a bad romance novel." "I disagree," Carwyn said. "That sounds like a rather excellent romance novel. — Elizabeth Hunter

Seen with the terrestrially sullied eye, we are in a situation of travelers in a train that has met with an accident in a tunnel, and this at a place where the light of the beginning can no longer be seen, and the light of the end is so very small a glimmer that the gaze must continually search for it and is always losing it again, and, furthermore, both the beginning and the end are not even certainties. Round about us, however, in the confusion of our senses, or in the supersensitiveness of our senses, we have nothing but monstrosities and a kaleidoscopic play of things that is either delightful or exhausting according to the mood and injury of each individual. What shall I do? or: Why should I do it? are not questions to be asked in such places. — Franz Kafka