us through an inner law of completeness 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 small portion of a
surface, and that I must pass my hand continually over it before my
touch grasps the whole. It is still more important, however, to remember
that my imagination is not tethered to certain points, locations, and
distances. It puts all the parts together simultaneously as if it saw or
knew instead of feeling them. Though I feel only a small part of my
horse at a time,--my horse is nervous and does not submit to manual
explorations,--yet, because I have many times felt hock, nose, hoof and
mane, I can see the steeds of Phoebus Apollo coursing the heavens.

With such a power active it is impossible that my thought should be
vague, indistinct. It must needs be potent, definite. This is really a
corollary of the philosophical truth that the real world exists only for
the mind. That is to say, I can never touch the world in its entirety;
indeed, I touch less of it than the portion that others see or hear. But
all creatures, all objects, pass into my brain entire, and occupy the
same extent there that they do in material space. I declare that for me
branched thoughts, instead of pines, wave, sway, rustle, make musical
the ridges of mountains rising summit upon summit. Mention a rose too
far away for me to smell it. Straightway a scent steals into my
nostril, a form presses against my palm in all its dilating softness,
with rounded petals, slightly curled edges, curving stem, leaves
drooping. When I would fain view the world as a whole, it rushes into
vision--man, beast, bird, repti