SENSORY IMPRESSIONS, TEMPERAMENT, AND BEHAVIOR

SENSORY IMPRESSIONS (HEARING, SMELL, AND TASTE)

Hearing

sound

noise, pitch, acoustics, timbre, tone, register, sonority

hearable

audible, distinct, clear, plain, distinctive

silent or almost silent

soundless, inaudible, noiseless, quiet, speechless, unspoken, unuttered, unexpressed, unsaid, stifled, muffled, muzzled, muted, mute, tacit, deadened, still, gagged, dull, dampened, hushed, quiescent, whispered, murmured, subdued, soft, unheard, faint, subaudible, indistinct, low, smothered

pleasant-sounding or pleasant-voiced

mellow, rich, harmonious, euphonious, euphonic, agreeable, resonant, honeyed, mellifluous, sonorous, musical, dulcet, lyrical, sweet, melic, canorous, golden-tongued, silver-tongued, mellisonant, lilting, songlike, ariose, velvety

loud or jarring

discordant, grating, raucous, cacophonous, harsh, piercing, strident, shrieking, screeching, shrill, banging, blaring, setting one’s teeth on edge, resounding, thunderous, deafening, clamorous, clangorous, booming, ear-splitting, fortissimo, making a din, at a crescendo

repeating as a sound

reverberating, reverberant, echoing, echoic, staccato, drumming, thrumming, resounding, resonating, resonant

ringing

pealing, jingling, tolling, chiming, tinkling, ding-dong, bell-like, tintinnabulating, sounding a knell, clinking, clanking

howling

ululating, yowling, baying, bawling, lowing, mugient, bellowing, braying

whimpering

puling, mewling

hissing

sibilant

Smell

odor

aroma, scent, fragrance, redolence, whiff, breath, emanation, exhalation, essence, olfaction

having a pleasant smell

fragrant, sweet, dulcet, flowery, balmy, aromatic, perfumy, ambrosial, like incense

having a strong smell

odorous, odoriferous, pungent, ripe, reeking, suffocating, asphyxiating, penetrating, sharp, biting, smelly, heady, effluvious, olent

having a bad smell

noxious, rank, noisome, stinking, fetid, miasmic, foul, malodorous, putrid, rotten, offensive, nasty, vile, olid, poisonous, rancid, repellent, sulfurous, graveolent, smelling to high heaven, nidorous, toxic

not smelling fresh

stale, musty, moldy, dusty, stuffy, frowsty, frousty, fusty

having an animal or slightly spoiled smell

gamy, musky, funky

odorless

unscented, deodorized, antiseptic, medicinal, inodorous, scentless, fragrance-free, neutral-smelling

Taste

taste

appetite, gustation, hunger, thirst, flavor, tang, palate, goût

worthy of eating

edible, palatable

worthy of drinking

drinkable, potable

looking tasty

appetizing, tempting, tantalizing, making one’s mouth water, fit for a king

tasting sweet

dulcet, saccharine, sugary, syrupy, honeyed

strong or seasoned in taste

salty, spicy, peppery, hot, pungent, sharp, tangy, stinging, biting, having an edge

unappealing to taste

repellent, unappetizing, uninviting, yucky, gross, unsavory, unpalatable

not sweet

tart, sour, bitter, astringent, acerbic, acerb

tasting good

tasty, sapid, saporous, savory, soporific, palatable, flavorful, toothsome, delectable, rich, piquant, tangy, whetting the appetite

smooth tasting

velvety

very tasty

delicious, scrumptious, yummy, juicy, succulent, luscious

overly sweet

cloying, sugary, sickening sweet

tasting bad

distasteful, repellent, foul, nasty, spoiled, overripe, rancid, nauseating, rotten, inedible, uneatable, undrinkable

TEMPERAMENT AND BEHAVIOR

mature

grown-up, adult, mellowed, full-grown, seasoned, full-blown, experienced, veteran, full-fledged

immature

puerile, callow, green, sophomoric, juvenile, half-baked, inexperienced, adolescent, untutored, wet behind the ears, unversed, unseasoned, jejune

innocent

simple, guileless, ingenuous, artless, angelic, naïve, sincere, unsophisticated, unworldly, childlike

humble

self-effacing, modest, unassuming, subdued, down-to-earth, folksy, earthy

lively

alive, animated, vibrant, vivacious, energetic, spirited, feisty, spry, perky, effervescent, bubbly, pert, boisterous, exuberant, rowdy, zesty, ebullient, bright-eyed

brave or venturesome

courageous, undaunted, plucky, spunky, intrepid, bold, doughty, hardy, valiant, mettlesome, fearless, intrepid

intensely curious, interested, or eager

excited, agog, giddy

contented

pleased, placid, at peace, serene, untroubled, unworried

sensible

practical, pragmatic, rational, commonsense, levelheaded, sound-thinking

happy

cheerful, delighted, gay, merry, blithe, jolly, glad, joyous, radiant, lighthearted, sunny-faced, in good spirits, in high spirits, cheery, laughing

very happy

exuberant, euphoric, blissful, elated, on cloud nine, beaming, rapturous, beatific, ecstatic

receptive

amenable, willing, well-disposed, responsive, welcoming

eager to please

accommodating, well-disposed, amiable, willing, ingratiating, wheedling, complaisant, obliging, good-natured

enthusiastic

eager, earnest, zealous, avid, with alacrity, welcoming, keen

passionate

impassioned, ardent, fervent, fervid, fevered, feverish, unrestrained, emotional

courteous

considerate, polite, courtly, well-mannered, gracious, obliging, decorous

considerate

gracious, solicitous, thoughtful, empathetic

expectant

hopeful, anticipating, excited

longing

wistful, yearning, dreamy

casual or jaunty

airy, devil-may-care, informal, happy-go-lucky, insouciant, pococurante, breezy, easygoing, leisurely, nonchalant, offhand, carefree, buoyant

mischievous

playful, frolicsome, impish, elfin, whimsical, puckish, roguish, naughty

changeable or unpredictable

capricious, inconstant, flighty, mercurial, fickle, protean

confident

self-confident, assured, self-assured, self-possessed, poised, self-reliant, undaunted, sanguine, optimistic, positive

friendly

personal, sociable, social, warm, gregarious, amiable, amicable, approachable, affable, companionable, chummy, congenial, genial, convivial, neighborly, collegial, agreeable, cordial, likeable, personable, outgoing, simpatico

sympathetic

empathetic, having an affinity with, appreciative, inclined toward, compassionate, understanding, sensitive to, well-disposed toward, pitying

confiding

confidential, reassuring, winking, intimate, meaningful

charming

winning, winsome, engaging, endearing, gallant, debonair, entrancing, appealing, charismatic, disarming

inviting or seductive

beckoning, come-hither, ravishing, alluring, bewitching, entrancing, flirtatious, enticing, beguiling, coquettish, having bedroom eyes

sober

grave, thoughtful, deliberative, meditative, serious, ruminative, reflective, pensive, conscientious, in a brown study

unthinking

thoughtless, heedless, careless, disregardful, mindless, unconscious, uncaring, oblivious, rash, sloppy, reckless, blithe, irresponsible

odd

queer, strange, eccentric, enigmatic, fishy, weird, bizarre, oddball, peculiar, curious, quirky

slow

lethargic, phlegmatic, sluggish, snail-like, stolid, ponderous, laggard, poky, lumbering

alert or watchful

comprehending, sharp, attentive, vigilant, appraising, keen-eyed, focused, transfixed

forward

pushy, offensive, obnoxious, outrageous, brazen, brash

challenging

pointed, fixed, glaring, staring, penetrating, hard-eyed, piercing, gimlet-eyed, unwavering

firm or resolute

tough, stout, stout-hearted, unflinching, strong, solid, sound, unbowed

bold or assertive

audacious, unflinching, shameless, impudent, flinty, steely, unabashed, confrontational, emboldened

overly talkative

chattering, talky, prolix, garrulous, nattering, babbling, loquacious, gabby, long-winded, gassy, prating, blathering, jabbering, running on

shy

timid, sheepish, mousy, diffident, uncertain, reticent, reluctant, timorous, bashful, skittish

awkward

ungainly, uncoordinated, clumsy, graceless, gawky, maladroit, bumbling, cloddish, gauche

quiet

reserved, subdued, retiring, unobtrusive, reclusive, withdrawn, conservative, self-contained, restrained, low-key

sad or given to dark moods

dejected, melancholic, melancholy, downcast, grim-faced, chapfallen, hangdog, bowed, low, blue, crestfallen, dispirited, heavyhearted, depressed, despondent, glum, mopish, mopy, gloomy, disconsolate, inconsolable, down, saturnine, brooding, long-faced, mournful, doleful, grave, woeful, moody, sullen

weeping

crying, sobbing, bawling, blubbering, wailing, whimpering, sniveling, shedding tears, being teary-eyed, lachrymating

unhappy or complaining

joyless, cheerless, ungratified, grim, fretful, whining, griping, querulous, sour

injured or resentful

sulky, pouting, sullen, brooding, mopish, mopey, reproachful, indignant, aggrieved, offended, bruised, begrudging, peeved, peevish, petulant

disappointed

disheartened, unsatisfied, displeased, crestfallen, dejected, crushed

despairing

despondent, low, hopeless, dispirited, downcast, depressed, pessimistic

defeated

discouraged, dispirited, careworn, pessimistic, fatalistic, down, negative, bleak

imposing

impressive, forbidding, intimidating, magisterial, majestic, grand, august, awesome, overbearing, dominating

regal

imperious, kingly, queenly, princely, autocratic, aristocratic, lordly

impulsive

impetuous, rash, hasty, spontaneous, impatient, erratic, flighty. irrepressible

cocky or fresh

bumptious, nervy, cheeky, brash, brazen, impudent, assertive, offensive, impertinent, saucy, pert, smart-alecky, sassy, pushy, obnoxious, cheeky, provocative, peremptory

arrogant

superior, haughty, snobbish, overbearing, patronizing, condescending, stuck-up, supercilious, conceited, sniffy, overweening, haughty

self-important

pompous, self-aggrandizing, pretentious, snooty, egotistic, egocentric, egomaniacal, self-satisfied, smug

self-dramatizing

stagy, dramatic, histrionic, overemotional, theatrical, overplayed, operatic, emoting

vain

preening, gloating, self-congratulatory, conceited, egotistic, narcissistic

dictatorial

demanding, peremptory, autocratic, bossy, imperious

discourteous

impolite, uncourtly, ungracious, rude, boorish, churlish, vulgar

contemptuous

disrespectful, sneering, lordly, spiteful, scornful, sardonic, insolent, abusive, condescending, derisive

straightforward

candid, forthcoming, forthright, frank, open, outspoken, aboveboard, straight, sincere, genuine, up-front, plain, plain-speaking, unreserved, blunt, to the point, unflinching, direct, honest

not candid or forthright

evasive, mealy-mouthed, devious, deceptive, equivocating

scheming

manipulative, guileful, conniving, designing, wily, calculating, untrustworthy, Machiavellian

artificial or false

studied, stagy, mannered, affected, phony, pretentious, practiced, putting on airs

overly earnest or flattering

ingratiating, smarmy, wheedling, cajoling

pious or moralistic

sanctimonious, hypocritical, pharisaical, holier-than-thou, goody-goody, po-faced (British)

sneaky

furtive, false, covert, clandestine, sly, stealthy, surreptitious, secretive, crafty, shifty, duplicitous, close-lipped, incommunicative

disapproving

withering, hard, baleful, stern, glaring, frowning, dismissive, glowering, critical, deprecatory, disdainful, grimacing

displeased

discontented, dissatisfied, unsatisfied, ungratified, malcontent, disgruntled, out of sorts, dyspeptic, querulous

inept

hapless, ineffective, fatuous, ineffectual, feckless

frustrated or annoyed

exasperated, vexed, piqued, irked, aggravated

dismayed

aghast, appalled, horrified, horror-stricken, horror-struck

pained

haunted, wounded, aggrieved, stricken, aching, cut to the quick, agonized, tormented

excitable or overly sensitive

overemotional, volatile, perturbable, prickly, thin-skinned, touchy

irritable or on edge

restless, jumpy, fidgety, testy, tetchy, difficult, fractious, ill-natured, ill-tempered, quarrelsome, querulous, bilious, tense, taut, grumpy

aggressive

scrappy, challenging, provocative, rambunctious, defiant, pugnacious, belligerent, bellicose, truculent, abrasive, contrarian, combative, pushy, forward, competitive, bullying, bumptious

angry or easily angered

short-tempered, snippy, glowering, scowling, incensed, indignant, furious, wrathful, enraged, boiling, outraged, choleric, cross, seething, simmering, hot-tempered, explosive, irate, glaring, dark, black, fulminating

threatening

menacing, intimidating, fierce, ferocious, minatory, frightening, fearsome, scary, warning

guilty

chastened, at fault, peccant, regretful, sinful

shamefaced

embarrassed, mortified, rueful, self-reproaching, sheepish, abashed

sorry or apologetic

regretful, repentant, penitent, contrite, remorseful, rueful, repining

conciliatory

placatory, placating, mollifying, reconciliatory, propitiative, propitiatory, appeasing

subservient

fawning, sycophantic, toadying, servile, obsequious, craven, slavish, cringing, yielding, tractable, submissive, groveling, sequacious

abrupt

brusque, unmannerly, rude, curt, bluff, unceremonious, peremptory, giving short shrift, gruff, crusty

stubborn or unyielding

unrelenting, uncompromising, implacable, unbending, unreachable, obstinate, dogged, balky, contrary, mulish, recalcitrant, pervivacious, inflexible, obdurate, stern, flinty, resistant, dour

disagreeable

morose, dour, sullen, sulky, crabbed, surly, sour, ill-mannered, ill-natured, spiky

unsociable

unfriendly, unapproachable, aloof, standoffish, inamicable, cool, chilly, asocial, antisocial, inimical

careful

cautious, mindful, heedful, deliberate, tentative

defensive

protective, self-protective, guarded, chary, wary, warding off

hostile

antagonistic, malevolent, ill-disposed, antipathetic, contentious, surly, quarrelsome

wicked

sinister, iniquitous, villainous, ungodly, diabolic, diabolical, depraved, satanic, demonic, base, vile, fiendish, infamous, heinous, nefarious, immoral, turpitudinous, despicable, malicious, malignant, malefic, malign

tired or lacking energy

worn, worn out, weary, fatigued, depleted, drained, spent, enervated, lifeless, feckless, listless, leaden, sluggish, debilitated

dissipated

dissolute, debauched, overindulgent, crapulous, self-indulgent, immoderate

without liveliness or flair

stolid, lumpish, plodding, apathetic, unspirited, spiritless, languid

meek

docile, gentle, mild-mannered, lamblike, unassuming

timid

fearful, irresolute, hesitant, diffident, timorous, mousy, pliant

wary or suspicious

hesitant, guarded, regardful, chary, distrustful, questioning, leery, measured

doubting or disbelieving

dubious, incredulous, skeptical

surprised

astonished, astounded, startled, amazed, flabbergasted, bug-eyed

stunned

dazed, dumbfounded, numb, benumbed, agape, stupefied, staggered, startled, unnerved

anxious, upset, or afraid

fearful, scared, apprehensive, worried, concerned, troubled, unnerved, disturbed, agitated, distraught, disquieted, discomposed, discomforted, discomfited, bothered, distressed, fraught

uneasy or worried

restless, fidgety, fluttery, restive, nervous, unnerved, on edge, jittery, ill at ease, apprehensive, tense, skittish, keyed up, anxious, antsy

alarmed

made fearful, apprehensive, panicked, in a tizzy

imperturbable

unflappable, unfazed, airy, unexcitable, serene, unflustered, unruffled, cool, cool as a cucumber, centered

inexpressive

silent, guarded, withdrawn, unforthcoming, untalkative, uncommunicative, unresponsive, mute

expressionless

blank, vacant, vacuous, deadpan, detached, impassive, unfeeling, affectless

inscrutable

mysterious, sphinxlike, unreadable, impenetrable, unknowable

impassive or cold

unfeeling, impervious, icy, affectless, impersonal, stony, stonelike, stiff, apathetic, indifferent, uninterested, dispassionate, unresponsive, unsympathetic, uncaring

unaware

unconscious, oblivious, unmindful, mindless, heedless, out of it

seeming distant or lost

absent, remote, dreamy, faraway, withdrawn

preoccupied

distracted, abstracted, absent-minded, distrait, absorbed, bemused

puzzled or confused

uncomprehending, bewildered, confounded, at sea, befuddled, perplexed, addled, betwixt and between, at sixes and sevens, thrown off, going around in circles, muddled, nonplussed, baffled, mystified, in a quandary, abashed, disconcerted, perturbed, discomposed, agitated, upset, clueless, disquieted, flustered, unsettled, at a loss, lost, overwhelmed, disoriented

speechless

tongue-tied, mortified, paralyzed, dazed, stunned, insensible, overcome, overwhelmed, petrified, struck dumb, mute, dumbstruck, at a loss for words

businesslike

formal, serious, all business, officious, punctilious, methodical, efficient, no-nonsense

stiff

rigid, circumspect, unspontaneous, severe, strict, stringent, harsh, starchy, prim, stilted, reserved, inflexible, unforthcoming, uptight, repressed, inflexible, puritanical, hidebound, straitlaced

Facial Expressions and Head Movements

raise one’s eyebrows

knit one’s brows

give a look

be wild-eyed

roll one’s eyes

stare

look daggers at

look askance (or askant) at

flutter one’s eyelashes

blink

blink back tears

glance

be unblinking

glare

leer

squint (or squinch one’s eyes)

wink

fix one’s gaze on

avert one’s eyes

look wide-eyed

have glazed eyes or a glazed look

give a sidelong glance

wrinkle or crinkle one’s nose

snort

have flared nostrils

sniffle

sniff

trembling or quivering lips

unsmiling

smirk

purse one’s lips

grin

pucker one’s lips

pout

be open-mouthed or agape

make a moue

grin

grin from ear to ear

laugh

bite one’s lip

stick one’s tongue out

grit one’s teeth

lick one’s lips

smile

have a crooked smile

have a forced smile

smirk

frown

cock an ear

glower

scowl

grimace

contort one’s face

have a pained expression

be slack-jawed

be deadpan or straight-faced

be expressionless

nod

shake one’s head

throw one’s head back (laughing)

scratch one’s head

QUOTATIONS

In fact, it isn’t bad. The meat is lean and white, without a hint of gaminess. There’s no aftertaste. Gradually, my squeamishness fades, and I try to decide what the meat reminds me of, but nothing comes to mind. It simply tastes like rat.

—PETER HESSLER, Strange Stones: Dispatches from East and West

Elizabeth, or Beth, as everyone called her, was a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her “Little Miss Tranquility”, and the name suited her excellently, for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved.

—LOUISA MAY ALCOTT, Little Women

Pulque is low in alcohol—only 4–6 percent alcohol by volume (ABV)—and has a slightly sour flavor, like pears or bananas past their prime. It is something of an acquired taste. Spanish historian Francisco López de Gómara, writing in the sixteenth century, said: “There are no dead dogs, nor a bomb, that can clear a path as well as the smell of [pulque].”

—AMY STEWART, The Drunken Botanist: The Plants That Create the World’s Great Drinks

At thirteen or fourteen he was a mere bag of bones, with upper arms about as thick as the wrists of other boys of his age; his little chest was pigeon-breasted; he appeared to have no strength or stamina whatever, and finding he always went to the wall in physical encounters, whether undertaken in jest or earnest, even with boys shorter than himself, the timidity natural to childhood increased upon him to an extent that I am afraid amounted to cowardice. This rendered him even less capable than he might otherwise have been, for as confidence increases power, so want of confidence increases impotence.

—SAMUEL BUTLER, The Way of All Flesh

I sit down in Studio B and slide on a pair of headphones. The recording is awash with white noise, hisses, a banging like a radiator clanging. There is the soft hum of an elevator motor. The mechanical clunk of an elevator door sliding open. They must be near the elevator. They are in a basement. Every sound is exaggerated and faintly doubled by the echo. I can clearly make out a man’s voice, urging, insistent. Is the girl sobbing? It’s an awful scene and I am able to project myself there all too easily. I can visualize the location. The girl is pushed against the wall. The man is facing her, his voice more clear and cutting because the sound waves are bouncing off the concrete into her phone’s mouthpiece.

—KARL TARO GREENFIELD, Triburbia

Willie patronized Oscar, who patronized Willie. Oscar was big, languid, and dreamy. Willie was a tolerable pianist; Oscar had no musical talent. But his wit made itself felt: thanks to his mischievous eye, nearly all the boys in the school bore nicknames conferred by him, though good-humoredly enough. His own nickname, which annoyed him, was “Grey Crow,” perhaps premonitory of Dorian’s surname.

—RICHARD ELLMANN, Oscar Wilde

The maiden’s lips, glossed with a red-red lipstick—a color called “Man Hunt”—her full lips curl into a smile. Here, the air hangs so calm that one can detect the scent of her perfume, like flowers left in a tomb, pressed flat and dried for a thousand years. She leans close to the open window and says, “You’re too late. It’s already tomorrow. . . .” She pauses for a long, lustful wink blanketed in turquoise eye shadow, and asks, “What time is it?”

And it’s obvious the man is drinking champagne, because in that quiet moment even the bubbles of his champagne sound loud. And the ticking of the man’s wristwatch sounds loud. And his voice within the car says, “It’s time for all bad girls to go to bed.”

—CHUCK PALAHNIUK, Doomed

“Easy, Amy. Only a twitch.” He winks at me, then drops what he is doing and strides out of the room. “Have a listen to this,” he calls over his shoulder and soon the place is awash with cascades of sound—brittle arpeggios, tumbling fragments of melody. It is very loud.

—PAUL BROKS, Into the Silent Land: Travels in Neuropsychology

Lydia Tkach did not expect her grandchildren to run to her arms. Lydia knew that her voice was high and shrill and her manner that of a Gulag prison camp commander. Still, they were well behaved and suffered themselves to be hugged. The hug was long and the children were patient.

—STUART M. KAMINSKY, A Whisper to the Living

This time Oscar didn’t cry when they drove him back to the canefields. Zafra would be here soon, and the cane had grown well and thick and in places you could hear the stalks clackclack-clacking against each other like triffids and you could hear krïyol voices lost in the night. The smell of the ripening cane was unforgettable, and there was a moon, a beautiful full moon, and Clives begged the men to spare Oscar, but they laughed. You should be worrying, Grod said, about yourself. Oscar laughed a little too through his broken mouth.

—JUNOT DÍAZ, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao

I’ve never listened to water quite this way before, with such close attention to its music. “You can change the pitch of a stream by removing a stone.” I lift a cobble out of the water. The chord loses some of its brightness, picks up a drone I didn’t hear before. “A stream tunes itself over time,” Gordon says, “tumbling the rocks into place.” A channel gouging through the mud that remains after a hillside has been logged is “only noise. But an old mossy stream? That’s a fugue.” Once, he tells me, he heard wind move up the Hoh valley, knocking dry leaves off the bigleaf maple trees. “It sounded,” he says, “like a wave of applause.”

—KATHLEEN DEAN MOORE, “Silence Like Scouring Sand,” Orion, November/December 2008

The chair smells fetid and deeply damp, unclean; it smells of irreversible rot. If it were hauled out into the street (when it is hauled out into the street), no one would pick it up. Richard will not hear of its being replaced.

—MICHAEL CUNNINGHAM, The Hours

Hitler’s open and unambiguous death threat against the Jewish people had not yet been uttered on the night when the Grynszpans were arrested in Hanover. Herschel Grynszpan, however, an attentive newspaper reader and a participant in anxious and deeply saturnine conversations around the tables at the Aurore and the Tout Va Bien, did not need to wait for any such public proclamation. He had already concluded that the Nazi intentions were both brutal and overtly murderous.

—JONATHAN KIRSCH, The Short, Strange Life of Herschel Grynszpan: A Boy Avenger, a Nazi Diplomat, and a Murder in Paris

The night was cool and dark, the air sweet with the scent of flowers growing in front yards and the peppery smell of automobile exhaust.

—TONY ARDIZZONE, The Whale Chaser

As with Maria, the serving girl from Aberdeen, as time passed, each personality began to grow and develop on its own timeline. Whatever she learned or experienced in her secondary state stayed with her, and when she returned to it, she would pick up where she had left off, with all her memories from that state preserved. Her new personality was markedly different from the first, far more witty, talkative, and imaginative. She wrote poetry and cultivated a whole new set of friends, having decided that she didn’t much like the ones from her original state.

—ANDREW MCCONNELL STOTT, “Split Personalities,” Lapham’s Quarterly, December 28, 2013

When we think of our sense organs, we usually think of these five: tasting, smelling, touching, hearing and seeing. There are more than that, though, since touch includes temperature, pressure, texture, and pain, the heart and the gut respond to emotions, and the hair on the back of the neck might react to an unknown fear.

—RUSSELL TARG, “A Decade of Remote Viewing Research,” Radiant Minds: Scientists Explore the Dimensions of Consciousness (Jean Millay, ed.)

I recently asked my mother to describe my personality until I hit puberty, and if my behavior changed or was strange in any way during this time. For adjectives, she said that throughout this period I was “adorable, lovable, straightforward, mischievous, inquisitive, capable, cheerful, insightful, likable, friendly, a prankster,” and added, “a pain in the ass, take your pick.”

—JAMES FALLON, The Psychopath Inside: A Neuroscientist’s Personal Journey into the Dark Side of the Brain

Once when the Store was full of lunchtime customers, he dipped the strainer, which we also used to sift weevils from meal and flour, into the barrel and fished for two fat pickles. He caught them and hooked the strainer onto the side of the barrel where they dripped until he was ready for them. When the last school bell rang, he picked the nearly dry pickles out of the strainer, jammed them into his pockets and threw the strainer behind the oranges. We ran out of the Store. It was summer and his pants were short, so the pickle juice made clean streams down his ashy legs, and he jumped with his pockets full of loot and his eyes laughing a “How about that?” He smelled like a vinegar barrel or a sour angel.

—MAYA ANGELOU, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Cecilia wasn’t the kind who was likely to flinch. “You mean the waiting room,” she said.

“Down the hall,” he said, looking more and more like he was going to chew her up—and spit her out. He took one of his cards out and turned it over and wrote a telephone number on the back. He handed it to her and turned his ambiguous grin into a happy grin, which he hoped she would perceive as ironic and become even more unsettled or at least more confused.

—TOM WOLFE, Back to Blood

Zinman has a nimble verbal manner, a cheerful seen-it-all-but-show-me-some-more bluntness, infused with a nasal Yonkers inflection, and a look that would have engaged Daumier—elfin, slightly paunchy, bemused. His red hair has mostly gone white and there’s not much left on top, and he has a pink complexion, a neatly trimmed beard, hazel eyes, and a consistent air of benign, sage alertness.

—MARK SINGER, “The Book Eater,” Character Studies: Encounters with the Curiously Obsessed

Stefano stood up with an irritated shrug and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Bruno did likewise and they began to gather together their belongings. I noticed Bruno slip a couple of DVDs into his bag as he packed, but said nothing. Maddalena couldn’t find her top. I brought her an old T-shirt of mine and she made a moue but accepted the shirt. The three of them headed off down the hill.

—NAOMI ALDERMAN, The Lessons

Tasting—in the sense of “wine-tasting” and of what Sue Langstaff does when she evaluates a product—is mostly smelling. The exact verb would be flavoring, if that could be a verb in the same way tasting and smelling are. Flavor is a combination of taste (sensory input from the surface of the tongue) and smell, but mostly it’s the latter. Humans perceive five tastes—sweet, bitter, salty, sour, and umami (brothy)—and an almost infinite number of smells. Eighty to ninety percent of the sensory experience of eating is olfaction. Langstaff could throw away her tongue and still do a reasonable facsimile of her job.

—MARY ROACH, Gulp: Adventures on the Alimentary Canal

And that is exactly what a bow tie says. Not that you’re powerless, but that you’re impotent. People offer to take you home not because you’re sexy but because you’re sexless, a neutered cat in need of a good stiff cuddle. This doesn’t mean that the bow tie is necessarily wrong for me, just that it’s a bit premature. When I explained this to my father, he rolled his eyes. Then he said that I had no personality. “You’re a lump.”

—DAVID SEDARIS, When You Are Engulfed in Flames

Rockwell had to be persistent. He had to climb the steep stairways of brownstones in Greenwich Village, wander hallways, knock politely, hope someone would agree to see him for a minute or two and look at his portfolio of sample illustrations. Although Rockwell was not dashing, he dressed neatly and had a nice personal manner. He said hello in a resonant baritone and shook hands firmly, with the deliberateness of a shy man who was looking for something to hold onto.

—DEBORAH SOLOMON, American Mirror: The Life and Art of Norman Rockwell

Mr. Darcy danced only once with Mrs. Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined being introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in walking about the room, speaking occasionally to one of his own party. His character was decided. He was the proudest, most disagreeable man in the world, and everybody hoped that he would never come there again. Among the most violent against him was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of his general behaviour was sharpened into particular resentment by his having slighted one of her daughters.

—JANE AUSTEN, Pride and Prejudice

It was thrilling to hear them speak in their deep, baritone voices and to see, up close, the dark razor stubble that shadowed their chins. At the same time, an exotic aroma entered the room, one that made me feel light-headed and flushed, like I’d been on a pogo stick. Only as an adult would I be able to name this intoxicating scent: English Leather.

—AUGUSTEN BURROUGHS, Magical Thinking: True Stories

He remembered Harry very well. He was then in his early twenties, thin but wiry build, average height, a sallow complexion, and small eyes. His subservient, eager-to-please manner as he had answered the questions had been off-putting but he had certainly given the impression of being so very, very shocked about Tracey’s disappearance.

—MARY HIGGINS CLARK, Daddy’s Gone A Hunting

The minister didn’t speak in a normal tone of voice; he bellowed, like he thought we all suffered from hearing loss (after several Sundays of that, I think we would have—probably an evangelical strategy for quick, resistance-free supplication: deaf lambs don’t bleat back, a way to shut the mutton up). It seemed he kept looking directly at me, and I was sure the blank look he found on my face was spurring him on, his voice rising to an increasingly frothy pitch, the way people will gradually begin to yell when talking to recent refugees or immigrants from . . . Tunisia, or Finland, outer Mongolia, say, in the hope that if they bray the words, their listeners will somehow suddenly understand this language that’s only recently been stuffed in their mouths and ears.

—KELLIE WELLS, Skin

She and her two sisters washed loads of laundry and hung them out to dry on lines stretched across the length of the swampy backyard.

This set my mother apart from her siblings: she was one of them, and not. The role she assumed made her lonely and isolated her, and her natural shyness complicated this. She resented the strength she had to cultivate, the endurance demanded of women in the rural South. She recognized its injustice, even as a child. This made her quiet and withdrawn. By the time she was a teenager and her siblings old enough to not need her constant supervision, my mother was able to act her age, and she dated, frequented the hole-in-the-wall club her godfather owned, and threw a few house parties that her peers still talk about today.

—JESMYN WARD, Men We Reaped: A Memoir

My senses awakened with a vengeance. Smell, especially: juniper incense, tobacco and ganja, cow shit, jasmine, frying honey, kerosene and eucalyptus. I spent my afternoons at the Yin Yang Coffee House, filling my journal with a wild energy fueled by hashish, ginger tea, and french fries. As I rode home on my rented Hero bike, the thunderstorms turned the streets and alleys into a slush of cow manure. Primitive electrical lines spat and shorted, with blue and red explosions, above my head. I’d watch the sunset from the roof of the Kathmandu Guest House, waiting for the fruit bats to drop from the trees and soar over the grounds of the Royal Palace. I could follow their path across the valley—which was still, in July 1979, a patchwork of emerald paddies, uncluttered temples, and white palaces.

—JEFF GREENWALD, Snake Lake

At Smith College the pervasive obsession with food was expressed at candlelight dinners and at Friday-afternoon faculty teas; in Danbury it was via microwave cooking and stolen food. In many ways I was more prepared to live in close quarters with a bunch of women than some of my fellow prisoners, who were driven crazy by communal female living. There was less bulimia and more fights than I had known as an undergrad, but the same feminine ethos was present—empathetic camaraderie and bawdy humor on good days, and histrionic dramas coupled with meddling, malicious gossip on bad days.

—PIPER KERMAN, Orange Is the New Black: My Year in a Women’s Prison

If Greer wasn’t rigorous or self-critical, she was impassioned and empathetic, with great reservoirs of feeling about the issues she cared about. Her personality, like her writing, was lilting and engaging. And what Nate had once taken to be a certain artificiality on her part, he came to see as theatricality, which was different and was part of what made being with her so vivid. He soon found himself charmed by her quirky interests—her unpredictable enthusiasms for, say, piñatas this week, or tiny little postcards that fit only one sentence the next.

—ADELLE WALDMAN, The Love Affairs of Nathaniel P.

Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson, who is forty-eight, has a yellow thatch, a hulking physique, and a voluptuous, sonorous facility befitting a onetime president of the Oxford Union.

—REBECCA MEAD, “Wordplay,” The New Yorker, June 25, 2012

The mild Mr Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner:

“Well, ma’am, I am happy to congratulate you.”

“What upon?” said my aunt, sharply.

Mr Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt’s manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile to mollify her.

—CHARLES DICKENS, David Copperfield

He was wearing the hotel’s bathrobe of white towelling and he had been wearing it ever since his incarceration, except when vainly trying to sleep or, once only, slinking upstairs at an unsociable hour to eat alone in a rooftop brasserie washed with the fumes of chlorine from a third-floor swimming pool across the road. Like much else in the room, the bathrobe, too short for his long legs, reeked of stale cigarette smoke and lavender air freshener.

—JOHN LE CARRÉ, A Delicate Truth

Already many of the memories of the previous two weeks had faded: the smell of that small hotel in St. Andrews; that mixture of bacon cooking for breakfast and the lavender-scented soap in the bathroom; the air from the sea drifting across the golf course; the aroma of coffee in the coffee bar in South Street. She should have said something about all that and the light and the hills with sheep on them like small white stones.

—ALEXANDER MCCALL SMITH, Trains and Lovers

A hundredweight of ringed and brooched blubber, smelling to high heaven of female smells, rank as long-hung hair or blown beef, her bedroom strewn with soiled bloomers, crumby combinations, malodorous bust-bodices. She had swollen finger-joints, puffy palms, wrists girdled with fat, slug-white upper arms that, when naked, showed indecent as thighs. She was corned, bunioned, callused, varicose-veined.

—ANTHONY BURGESS, Inside Mr. Enderby

Even in his twenties, when his published work amounted to no more than a doctoral thesis (profoundly original but little understood) and a few secret papers in the Los Alamos archives, his legend was growing. He was a master calculator: in a group of scientists he could create a dramatic impression by slashing his way through a difficult problem. Thus scientists—believing themselves to be unforgiving meritocrats—found quick opportunities to compare themselves unfavorably to Feynman. His mystique might have belonged to a gladiator or a champion arm wrestler. His personality, unencumbered by dignity or decorum, seemed to announce: Here is an unconventional mind.

—JAMES GLEICK, Genius: The Life and Science of Richard Feynman

She backed away, buying time, and waited at the end of the anteroom to see if Cross-eyes would retrieve the box. One of the tenants had burned chiles so bad the scent tattooed the air around her for hours.

—HELENA MARIA VIRAMONTES, Their Dogs Came with Them

Half the boys went into the girls’ classroom, and half the girls came into the boys’ classroom, and when they did, the room smelled like a meadow, like a thousand meadows, like a thousand meadows covered in a fine, soothing mist of Aqua Net hair spray, and I inhaled deeply as they walked by, the heels of their shiny black shoes making delicate music, clickety-clackety-click, on the hard tile floors.

—SHALOM AUSLANDER, Foreskin’s Lament

Undoubtedly, dear reader, you have heard the expression “a body that wouldn’t quit.” Well Tiffany’s body would not only not quit, it wouldn’t take five minutes off for a coffee break. Skin like satin, or should I say like the finest of Zabar’s novy, a leonine mane of chestnut hair, long willowy legs, and a shape so curvaceous that to run one’s hands over any portion of it was like a ride on the Cyclone. This is not to say the one I roomed with, the scintillating and even profound Olive Chomsky, was a slouch physiognomywise. Not at all. In fact she was a handsome woman with all the attendant perquisites of a charming and witty culture vulture and, crudely put, a mechanic in the sack.

—WOODY ALLEN, “The Lunatic’s Tale,” The Insanity Defense: The Complete Prose

They weren’t really mingling. They were doing something that was more like a stiff list, a drift and sway. The acoustics made it impossible to speak normally and so they found themselves shouting inanities then just falling mute. The noise of the place was deafening as a sea, and the booming heartiness of others seemed to destroy all possibility of happiness for themselves.

—LORRIE MOORE, “Foes,” The Guardian, October 31, 2008

The lechuga—lettuce—of Castile, celebrated for its succulence, was worth twice that found in the rest of Spain. Even the water of Guzmán was different from the water of Roa just down the road. “We need to preserve tastes of this magical place for our children,” he’d once told me.

—MICHAEL PATERNITI, The Telling Room: A Tale of Love, Betrayal, Revenge, and the World’s Greatest Piece of Cheese

“Father!”—The girl’s voice rang clear through the half light of the wainscoted library. Gwendoline Oxhead had thrown herself about the earl’s neck. The girl was radiant with happiness. Gwendoline was a beautiful girl of thirty-three, typically English in the freshness of her girlish innocence. She wore one of those charming walking suits of brown holland so fashionable among the aristocracy of England, while a rough leather belt encircled her waist in a single sweep. She bore herself with that sweet simplicity which was her greatest charm. She was probably more simple than any girl of her age for miles around. Gwendoline was the pride of her father’s heart, for he saw reflected in her the qualities of his race.

—STEPHEN LEACOCK, Literary Lapses

“Tea?” she asks, and I say, “I would love to, but I have to get home and make dinner.” Perhaps that’s why we haven’t become closer: We are on different schedules. So much of friendship is about being in the right place at the right time. That’s how Kiernan’s mother, Deborah, and I found each other, both young mothers of young children, both a little overwhelmed, a little lost. Alice is the friend who knew me when I was young and uncertain, Nancy the friend I acquired when I needed someone sure and straightforward and sane to a fault. I’m not sure I have room now for any more friends, even one as nice as Olivia. I’m vaguely sorry about that every time I see her.

—ANNA QUINDLEN, Every Last One

Ghosts of a golden time ambled around the sound stages as if they were living people. Judy Garland. Gene Kelly making Brigadoon. Donald O’Connor knockoffs. The guileless Bob Fosse fit somewhere in there, though exactly where, no one knew for sure. He didn’t have Kelly’s hardy build or expansive spirit. He didn’t score high on the O’Connor scale of personality. Never mind that he was one of the best dancers on the lot. Close-ups didn’t care about that. Bob Fosse was mild of voice, limited of expression, and small onscreen. What did they need him for?

Fosse endured many screen tests, innumerable changes of clothes, hairstyles, poses, and expressions, until the studio finally decided who he was.

—SAM WASSON, Fosse

She’s a small girl and moving close to her I feel, for once, that I have some size. The waxy collar of her jacket prickles the hair on my forearms. Her neck is damp and slippery, and her mouth, as I kiss it, tastes like cigarettes and chocolate. I picture her smoking rapidly, furtively, in the little bathroom on the plane. Her hair smells a little rancid. The perfume she put on this morning has moldered with sweat and travel and now gives off an odor of decayed pear.

—PAMELA ERENS, The Virgins

She was a small, plump, fair woman, with a bright, clear eye, and an extraordinary air of neatness and briskness. But these qualities were evidently combined with unaffected humility, and the Doctor gave her his esteem as soon as he had looked at her. A brave little person, with lively perceptions, and yet a disbelief in her own talent for social, as distinguished from practical, affairs—this was his rapid mental résumé of Mrs. Montgomery, who, as he saw, was flattered by what she regarded as the honour of his visit.

—HENRY JAMES, Washington Square

According to the E.U. regulations, extra-virgin oil must have appreciable levels of pepperiness, bitterness, and fruitiness, and must be free of sixteen official taste flaws, which include “musty,” “fusty,” “cucumber,” and “grubby.” “If there’s one defect, it’s not extra-virgin olive oil—basta, end of story,” Flavio Zaramella, the president of the Corporazione Mastri Oleari, in Milan, one of the most respected private olive-oil associations, told me.

—TOM MUELLER, “Slippery Business: The Trade in Adulterated Olive Oil,” The New Yorker, August 13, 2007

“This is a good time. As good as any, I suppose.” What excuse was there for keeping him, all of them, away while their father dozed through whatever time remained to him, even though the old man himself did not ask her to send for them? Teddy could have blamed her for letting things get worse without calling him. It was pride, or it was shame that had made her hope Jack would recover himself enough to let the others see that things had been good between them. Though there was their father, too. But she saw nothing of anger or accusation in Teddy’s manner. A calm, affable man who went about his doctoring with scrupulous detachment and a heavy heart, he saw enough misery in the ordinary course of his life to avoid adding to it, except when compelled to on medical grounds.

—MARILYNNE ROBINSON, Home

His father had chosen his name, thinking that it referred to artesian wells. It wasn’t until Artemis was a grown man that he discovered he had been named for the chaste goddess of the hunt. He didn’t seem to mind and, anyhow, everybody called him Art. He wore work clothes and in the winter a seaman’s knitted cap. His manner with strangers was rustic and shy and something of an affectation, since he read a good deal and had an alert and inquisitive intelligence. His father had learned his trade as an apprentice and had not graduated from high school. He regretted not having an education and was very anxious that his son should go to college. Artemis went to a small college called Laketon in the north of the state and got an engineering degree.

—JOHN CHEEVER, “Artemis, the Honest Well Digger,” The Stories of John Cheever

By nature, Cohn is diffident and modest—not necessarily useful traits in his chosen profession. To compensate, he has developed an orally aggressive manner—a confident staccato, as unstoppable as a bunch of marbles rolling down a hill—that could easily be mistaken for unrestrained egotism. His conversational style is as crisp and breezy as a morning d.j.’s. He laughs a lot—a popping laugh that sounds like a can of beer being opened, followed by a wheeze.

—MARK SINGER, “Professional Doppelgänger,” Mr. Personality: Profiles and Talk Pieces from The New Yorker

What is not debatable is that a perfect bowl of Hanoi pho is a balanced meeting of savory, sweet, sour, spicy, salty, and even umami—a gentle commingling of textures as well: soft and giving, wet and slippery, slightly chewy, momentarily resistant but ultimately near-diaphanous, light and heavy, leafy and limp, crunchy and tender.

—ANTHONY BOURDAIN, Medium Raw

He’d spent thirty of his fifty-six years working in the Memphis Public School system. When you first met him, you thought that whatever happened next it wasn’t likely to be pleasant. His social manner was, like his salt-and-pepper hair, clipped short. He had the habit of frowning when another would have smiled, and of taking a joke seriously. But after about twenty minutes you realized that though the hard surface was both thin and brittle, beneath was a pudding of sentiment and emotion. He teared up easily, and was quick to empathize.

—MICHAEL LEWIS, The Blind Side

The smell of a rich, sweet Germanic tobacco sat in a cloud just above head level, staining the leaves of the highest books yellow, and there was an elaborate smoking set on a side table—spare mouthpieces, pipes ranging from the standard U-bend to ever more curious shapes, snuff boxes, a selection of gauzes—all laid out in a velvet-lined leather case like a doctor’s instruments. Scattered about the walls and lining the fireplace were photos of the Chelfen clan, including comely portraits of Joyce in her pert-breasted hippie youth, a retroussé nose sneaking out between two great sheaths of hair.

—ZADIE SMITH, White Teeth

The line rang with three more piercing notes—Mercy! they could burst an eardrum, hello? I said Mister Bast is abroad somewhere just a minute, Julia? The card that came yesterday with a picture of a mountain, where, hello . . . ?

—Who in heaven’s name . . .

—Well I never! The oddest voice, it sounded like someone talking under a pillow. I thought he said he was a business friend of James, the most awful shrill sounds on the telephone line and then it sounded like a loud bell ringing and he simply hung up.

—WILLIAM GADDIS, J R