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immensity。
Move me along constantly over water； water； nothing but water； and you
give me the solitude； the vastness of ocean which fills the eye。 I have
been in a little sail…boat on the sea； when the rising tide swept it
toward the shore。 May I not understand the poet's figure： 〃The green of
spring overflows the earth like a tide〃？ I have felt the flame of a
candle blow and flutter in the breeze。 May I not； then； say： 〃Myriads of
fireflies flit hither and thither in the dew…wet grass like little
fluttering tapers〃？
bine the endless space of air； the sun's warmth； the clouds that are
described to my understanding spirit； the frequent breaking through the
soil of a brook or the expanse of the wind…ruffled lake； the tactual
undulation of the hills； which I recall when I am far away from them；
the towering trees upon trees as I walk by them； the bearings that I try
to keep while others tell me the directions of the various points of the
scenery； and you will begin to feel surer of my mental landscape。 The
utmost bound to which my thought will go with clearness is the horizon
of my mind。 From this horizon I imagine the one which the eye marks。
Touch cannot bridge distance；……it is fit only for the contact of
surfaces；……but thought leaps the chasm。 For this reason I am able to use
words descriptive of objects distant from my senses。 I have felt the
rondure of the infant's tender form。 I can apply this perception to the
landscape and to the far…off hills。
ANALOGIES IN SENSE PERCEPTION
X
ANALOGIES IN SENSE PERCEPTION
I HAVE not touched the outline of a star nor the glory of the moon； but
I believe that God has set two lights in mind； the greater to rule by
day and the lesser by night； and by them I know that I am able to
navigate my life…bark； as certain of reaching the haven as he who steers
by the North Star。 Perhaps my sun shines not as yours。 The colours that
glorify my world； the blue of the sky； the green of the fields； may not
correspond exactly with those you delight in； but they are none the less
colour to me。 The sun does not shine for my physical eyes； nor does the
lightning flash； nor do the trees turn green in the spring； but they
have not therefore ceased to exist； any more than the landscape is
annihilated when you turn your back on it。
I understand how scarlet can differ from crimson because I know that the
smell of an orange is not the smell of a grape…fruit。 I can also
conceive that colours have shades； and guess what shades are。 In smell
and taste there are varieties not broad enough to be fundamental； so I
call them shades。 There are half a dozen roses near me。 They all have
the unmistakable rose scent； yet my nose tells me that they are not the
same。 The American Beauty is distinct from the Jacqueminot and La
France。 Odours in certain grasses fade as really to my sense as certain
colours do to yours in the sun。 The freshness of a flower in my hand is
analogous to the freshness I taste in an apple newly picked。 I make use
of analogies like these to enlarge my conceptions of colours。 Some
analogies which I draw between qualities in surface and vibration； taste
and smell； are drawn by others between sight； hearing； and touch。 This
fact encourages me to persevere； to try and bridge the gap between the
eye and the hand。
Certainly I get far enough to sympathize with the delight that my kind
feel in beauty they see and harmony they hear。 This bond between
humanity and me is worth keeping； even if the idea on which I base it
prove erroneous。
Sweet； beautiful vibrations exist for my touch； even though they travel
through other substances than air to reach me。 So I imagine sweet；
delightful sounds； and the artistic arrangement of them which is called
music； and I remember that they travel through the air to the ear；
conveying impressions somewhat like mine。 I also know what tones are；
since they are perceptible tactually in a voice。 Now； heat varies
greatly in the sun； in the fire； in hands； and in the fur of animals；
indeed； there is such a thing for me as a cold sun。 So I think of the
varieties of light that touch the eye； cold and warm； vivid and dim；
soft and glaring； but always light； and I imagine their passage through
the air to an extensive sense； instead of to a narrow one like touch。
From the experience I have had with voices I guess how the eye
distinguishes shades in the midst of light。 While I read the lips of a
woman whose voice is soprano； I note a low tone or a glad tone in the
midst of a high； flowing voice。 When I feel my cheeks hot； I know that I
am red。 I have talked so much and read so much about colours that
through no will of my own I attach meanings to them； just as all people
attach certain meanings to abstract terms like hope； idealism；
monotheism； intellect； which cannot be represented truly by visible
objects； but which are understood from analogies between immaterial
concepts and the ideas they awaken of external things。 The force of
association drives me to say that white is exalted and pure； green is
exuberant； red suggests love or shame or strength。 Without the colour or
its equivalent； life to me would be dark； barren； a vast blackness。
Thus through an inner law of pleteness my thoughts are not permitted
to remain colourless。 It strains my mind to separate colour and sound
from objects。 Since my education began I have always had things
described to me with their colours and sounds by one with keen senses
and a fine feeling for the significant。 Therefore I habitually think of
things as coloured and resonant。 Habit accounts for part。 The soul sense
accounts for another part。 The brain with its five…sensed construction
asserts its right and accounts for the rest。 Inclusive of all； the unity
of the world demands that colour be kept in it； whether I have
cognizance of it or not。 Rather than be shut out； I take part in it by
discussing it； imagining it； happy in the happiness of those near me
who gaze at the lovely hues of the sunset or the rainbow。
My hand has its share in this multiple knowledge； but it must never be
forgotten that with the fingers I see only a very