Synesthesia Quotes

“The spring came suddenly; the rains stopped, the days grew noticeably longer, and the afternoon light felt powdery, as if it might blow away.”
― Jane Mendelsohn, I Was Amelia Earhart

“She said that everything had colour in her thought; the months of the year ran through all the tints of the spectrum, the days of the week were arrayed as Solomon in his glory, morning was golden, noon orange, evening crystal blue, and night violet. Every idea came to her mind robed in its own especial hue. Perhaps that was why her voice and words had such a charm, conveying to the listeners' perception such fine shadings of meaning and tint and music.”
― L.M. Montgomery, The Golden Road

“Deep spirit scanning,” Eisfanger says. His voice has a strange resonance to it, like I’m hearing him through a bad phone connection. “Don’t worry, it’s completely safe. Well, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Side effects have been documented,” he admits. “In a very small percentage of cases. Less than two percent.”

“What kind of side effects?” Suddenly I’m feeling nauseous. Feels like the ants are crawling around inside me now, which is exactly as disturbing as it sounds.

“Memory loss. Synesthesia. And occasionally … vestigial growths.”

“So I could forget my own name, start smelling purple everywhere and have an extra nipple sprout from my forehead?”
― D.D. Barant, Back from the Undead

“...of having forgotten the colour of loves and the taste of hatreds. We thought we were immortal.”
― Fernando Pessoa

“The feeling of pain resembles the anguished, troubled height of convulsions, and suffering-the long and the slow kind-has the intimate yellow which colours the vague bliss of profoundly felt convalescence".”
― Fernando Pessoa

“Mirror-touch synesthesia could very well scientifically explain why physical empaths seem to “catch” or absorb the illnesses of other people, and also why empaths, as a whole, find violence absolutely unbearable to watch.”
― Aletheia Luna, Awakened Empath: The Ultimate Guide to Emotional, Psychological and Spiritual Healing

“She could taste her children on her tongue, the colors they wore. Jacqueline was yellow. Gunnar was blue. Gabriela had always been red. All their weight. Their history inside of her. And she remembered her mother's synesthesia and was startled as guilt crept up her throat.”
― Laura Gentile, Within Paravent Walls

“If you have a patient with a condition that's not understood why not ascribe it to a disorder that is also not understood? Autism occurs in males more than it does in females. So does higher order mathematical intuition. We think: What is this about? Dont know. What is at the heart of it? Dont know. All I can tell you is that I like numbers. I like their shapes and their colors and their smells and the way they taste. And I dont like to take people's word for things.”
― Cormac McCarthy, Stella Maris

“Without the color, I don't know how to proceed. I'm lost in shades of gray.”
― Wendy Mass, A Mango-Shaped Space

“I see the last two millennia as laid out in columns, like a reverse ledger sheet. It's as if I'm standing at the top of the twenty-first century looking downwards to 2000. Future centuries float as a gauzy sheet stretching over to the left. I also see people, architecture and events laid out chronologically in the columns. When I think of the year 1805, I see Trafalgar, women in the clothes of that era, famous people who lived then, the building, etc. The sixth to tenth centuries are very green, the Middle Ages are dark with vibrant splashes of red and blue and the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries are brown with rich, lush colours in the furniture and clothing.”
― Claudia Hammond, Time Warped: Unlocking the Mysteries of Time Perception – Brain Science for Retraining, Managing, and Planning Your Future

“Az égen nem volt egy szál felhő sem. Közben viszont az egészet az a sajátos tavaszi, sűrű, lankadt fátyol borította. És e megfoghatatlan fátyol fölül próbált az ég kékje lassanként előszivárogni. A napfény apró szemű porként hangtalanul hullt le a levegőbe, és anélkül, hogy bárki is különösebb figyelmet fordított volna rá, felgyűlt a földfelszínen.
Langyos szellő rezegtette meg a fényt. Mint a madarak, akik csapatosan vágnak át a fák között, lassan úszott a levegő. A szél a vágány mentén lecsúszdázott az enyhe lejtőn, átvágott a síneken, és meg sem rezegtetve a fák leveleit, kibújt az erdőből. A kakukk hangja egyszerre csak, a puha fényen keresztül eltűnt egy messzi domborulatban. A domb vonulata néhány kisebb-nagyobb emelkedőből állt, és kuksolt ott, mint egy hatalmas alvó macska az idő fénytavában.”
― Haruki Murakami, Pinball, 1973

“Mori made an unwilling sound. 'I don't like Western art.'

'No look at this.' He lifted it from its package. It wasn't heavy. 'It's clever, it looks like busy Mozart.'

'What?'

'I . . .' Thaniel sighed. 'I see sound. Mozart looks like this. You know. Fast strings.'

'See? In front of you?'

'Yes. I'm not mad.'

'I didn't think so. All sounds?'

'Yes.”
― Natasha Pulley, The Watchmaker of Filigree Street

“He mentally perceived words as having various sizes, densities, depths; words were dark stars, some small and dull and solid, some immense, complex, subtle, with a powerful gravity-field that attracted infinite meanings to them. Freedom was the biggest of the dark stars.”
― Ursula K. Le Guin, The Birthday of the World and Other Stories

“Numbers express quantities. In the submissions to my online survey, however, respondents frequently attributed qualities to them. Noticeably, colors. The number that was most commonly described as having its own color was four (52 votes), which most respondents (17) said was blue. Seven was next (28 votes), which most respondents (9) said was green, and in third place came five (27 votes), which most respondents (9) said was red. Seeing colors in numbers is a manifestation of synesthesia, a condition in which certain concepts can trigger incongruous responses, and which is thought to be the result of atypical connections being made between parts of the brain.

In the survey, numbers were also labeled “warm,” “crisp,” “chagrined,” “peaceful,” “overconfident,” “juicy,” “quiet” and “raw.” Taken individually, the descriptions are absurd, yet together they paint a surprisingly coherent picture of number personalities. Below is a list of the numbers from one to thirteen, together with words used to describe them taken from the survey responses.

One Independent, strong, honest, brave, straightforward, pioneering, lonely.
Two Cautious, wise, pretty, fragile, open, sympathetic, quiet, clean, flexible.
Three Dynamic, warm, friendly, extrovert, opulent, soft, relaxed, pretentious.
Four Laid-back, rogue, solid, reliable, versatile, down-to-earth, personable.
Five Balanced, central, cute, fat, dominant but not too much so, happy.
Six Upbeat, sexy, supple, soft, strong, brave, genuine, courageous, humble.
Seven Magical, unalterable, intelligent, awkward, overconfident, masculine.
Eight Soft, feminine, kind, sensible, fat, solid, sensual, huggable, capable.
Nine Quiet, unobtrusive, deadly, genderless, professional, soft, forgiving.
Ten Practical, logical, tidy, reassuring, honest, sturdy, innocent, sober.
Eleven Duplicitous, onomatopoeic, noble, wise, homey, bold, sturdy, sleek.
Twelve Malleable, heroic, imperial, oaken, easygoing, nonconfrontational.
Thirteen Gawky, transitional, creative, honest, enigmatic, unliked, dark horse.

You don’t need to be a Hollywood screenwriter to spot that Mr. One would make a great romantic hero, and Miss Two a classic leading lady. The list is nonsensical, yet it makes sense. The association of one with male characteristics, and two with female ones, also remains deeply ingrained.”
― Alex Bellos, The Grapes of Math: How Life Reflects Numbers and Numbers Reflect Life

“You should quit. Cigarettes make people taste ... yellow."

Taste? Kizzy's mind did a cartwheel. Taste? Was this Jack Husk thinking about tasting her? Great God Almighty, she did not want to taste yellow if that happened, whatever yellow tasted like.”
― Laini Taylor Lips Touch Three times

“Isaac was a sociopath, and all sociopaths, be they Ted Bundy, Jeffery Dahmer, or Jenna's own mother, shared certain traits. One of those traits: they always played by their own rules, rules that set double standards—one standard for only them, and another standard for everyone else.”
― Colby Marshall, Color Blind

“The law gave me an entirely new vocabulary, a language that non-lawyers derisively referred to as "legalese." Unlike the basic building blocks- the day-to-day words- that got me from the subway to the office and back, the words of my legal vocabulary, more often than not, triggered flavors that I had experienced after leaving Boiling Springs, flavors that I had chosen for myself, derived from foods that were never contained within the boxes and the cans of DeAnne's kitchen.
Subpoenakiwifruit.
InjunctionCamembert.
Infringementlobster.
Jurisdictionfreshgreenbeans.
Appellantsourdoughbread.
ArbitrationGuinness.
Unconstitutionalasparagus.
ExculpatoryNutella.
I could go on and on, and I did.
Every day I was paid an astonishing amount of money to shuffle these words around on paper and, better yet, to say them aloud. At my yearly reviews, the partners I worked for commented that they had never seen a young lawyer so visibly invigorated by her work. One of the many reasons I was on track to make partner, I thought.
There were, of course, the rare and disconnecting exceptions. Some legal words reached back to the Dark Ages of my childhood and to the stunted diet that informed my earlier words. "Mitigating," for example, brought with it the unmistakable taste of elementary school cafeteria pizzas: rectangles of frozen dough topped with a ketchup-like sauce, the hard crumbled meat of some unidentifiable animal, and grated "cheese" that didn't melt when heated but instead retained the pattern of a badly crocheted coverlet. I had actually looked forward to the days when these rectangles were on the lunch menu, slapped onto my tray by the lunch ladies in hairnets and comfortable shoes. Those pizzas (even the word itself was pure exuberance with the two z's and the sound of satisfaction at the end... ah!) were evocative of some greater, more interesting locale, though how and where none of us at Boiling Springs Elementary circa 1975 were quite sure. We all knew what hamburgers and hot dogs were supposed to look and taste like, and we knew that the school cafeteria served us a second-rate version of these foods. Few of us students knew what a pizza was supposed to be. Kelly claimed that it was usually very big and round in shape, but both of these characteristics seemed highly improbable to me. By the time we were in middle school, a Pizza Inn had opened up along the feeder road to I-85. The Pizza Inn may or may not have been the first national chain of pizzerias to offer a weekly all-you-can-eat buffet. To the folks of the greater Boiling Springs-Shelby area, this was an idea that would expand their waistlines, if not their horizons. A Sizzler would later open next to the Pizza Inn (feeder road took on a new connotation), and it would offer the Holy Grail of all-you-can-eat buffets: steaks, baked potatoes, and, for the ladies, a salad bar complete with exotic fixings such as canned chickpeas and a tangle of slightly bruised alfalfa sprouts.
Along with "mitigating," these were some of the other legal words that also transported me back in time:
Egressredvelvetcake.
PerpetuityFrenchsaladdressing.
Compensatoryboiledpeanuts.
ProbateReese'speanutbuttercup.
FiduciaryCheerwine.
AmortizationOreocookie.”
― Monique Truong, Bitter in the Mouth

“Can you describe for me the tastes that you experienced as you said those words?"
"Certainly. Mashed peas, dried apples, wine gum, weak tea, butter unsalted, Walkers crisps..."Mr. Roland replied.
What I was experiencing at that moment wasn't an out-of-body experience. It was an in-another-body experience. Everything but this man and me had faded into darkness. He and I were at the two ends of a brightly lit tunnel. We were point A and point B. The tunnel was the most direct, straight-line route between the two points. I had never experienced recognition in this pure, undiluted form. It was a mirroring. It was a fact. It was a cord pulled taut between us. Most of all, it was no longer a secret.
I don't remember getting up, but I must have. I do remember kneeling in front of the TV. I touched the image of Mr. Roland's face as his words jumped, swerved, coalesced, attacked, and revealed. As the interview continued, he became more comfortable with the interviewer, and his facial tics and rapid blinking lessened. He masked what he couldn't control by taking long sips from a glass of water (or perhaps the clear liquid was gin). He also turned his head slightly and coughed into his left hand, which provided him with a second or two of privacy. It soon became clear to Mr. Roland and to me that the interviewer wanted him to perform for the camera. After each question-and-answer exchange, the interviewer would ask him for the tastes of her words and then his. Mr. Roland was oddly obliging, much more so than I would have been in his position. I soon realized that his pool of experiential flavors, in other words his actual food intake, was very British and that he didn't venture far from home for his gastronomical needs. "Curry fries" was the most unusual taste that this piano tuner from Manchester listed. The word "employment" triggered it, he told the interviewer. I said "employment" aloud and tasted olives from a can, which meant I tasted more can than olives. I felt more than a tinge of envy.”
― Monique Truong, Bitter in the Mouth

“The voiceover promised a baker in Terre Haute, Indiana, who saw colors when he heard music, every note bringing with it a vivid shade on the color spectrum. There was a flutist in Hamburg, Germany, who experienced flavors as shapes and textures. Her favorite was white asparagus, which was a pleasing hexagonal form with smooth bumps all over its surface. There was a writer in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, who saw all her words in colors because each letter of the alphabet appeared to her in a different hue. According to the voiceover, the name of the writer's hometown, with its preponderance of vowels, which were jewel tones of reds and oranges and pinks, was her favorite word.”
― Monique Truong, Bitter in the Mouth

“I'm moved by letters and words in the way that you may be moved by the colors of a sunset or a field of wildflowers or the inside of a slaughterhouse."
Ms. Cordell, almost as obligingly and patiently as Mr. Roland had, explained that sometimes a letter would dominate a word, causing the other letters around them to cower and become dim. The u in "instructions," for example. Because of its location right in the middle of the word, it's neon-pink glow was the star of the show. The letters in "techniques," however, were more of an ensemble production. The new-grass green of the t gave way to the lemon-pie filling e followed by c, with its black Labrador sheen.
Ms. Cordell then abruptly stopped her description of the cooperative spirit of "techniques." She must have seen the look in the interviewer's eyes, which I could clearly see too, because the camera was documenting it. I saw there a mixture of fascination and disbelief and pity. I know it was the pity that made Ms. Cordell silent.
Forget about the interviewer. Better yet, pity her. She has only five senses. Go on, Ms. Cordell, tell me what the word techniques does to you. It makes me taste cheesecake, graham cracker crust and everything, I wanted to tell her.”
― Monique Truong, Bitter in the Mouth

“But, Mr. Harrison, did you never consider a career in music or, perhaps, as a visual artist?" the interviewer persisted.
"I have a high school diploma. Guys like me, we don't consider careers. We get a job," Corny said.
You're asking him the wrong questions. Ask about the sound of granulated sugar being poured into a stainless-steel bowl, the whirring motor of an electric mixer, or his fist punching down bread dough. A flat, B minor, or C sharp? Or did he prefer music made by others when he worked? If yes, then ask what songs and colors moved this man to make the lightest cakes, the chewiest cookies, breads with tender crusts?”
― Monique Truong, Bitter in the Mouth

“A week was what she wanted: a nice manageable chunk of time with a beginning, a middle, and an end, containing, if desired, a space for each of the wonders of the world, the champions of Christendom, the deadly sins, or the colours of the rainbow. (Monday was definitely yellow, Thursday a dull indigo, Friday violet. About the others she didn't feel so strongly.)”
― Jan Struther, Mrs. Miniver

“With the violin nestled below my chin, I feel more at home than I ever have in any house. With my fingers on the soundboard and my right hand holding the bow, I close my eyes briefly and breathe. It's like a part of my body has been missing, and now, at last, it's reattached.”
― Emily Barth Isler, The Color of Sound