e authority. The nose is one of the greatest indicators of
character. That is to say, it almost inevitably indicates the mode of
predominant dynamic consciousness in the individual, the predominant
primary center from which he lives.--When savages rub noses instead of
kissing, they are exchanging a more sensitive and a deeper sensual
salute than our lip-touch.

The eyes are the third great gateway of the psyche. Here the soul goes
in and out of the body, as a bird flying forth and coming home. But
the root of conscious vision is almost entirely in the breast. When I
go forth from my own eyes, in delight to dwell upon the world which is
beyond me, outside me, then I go forth from wide open windows, through
which shows the full and living lambent darkness of my present inward
self. I go forth, and I leave the lovely open darkness of my sensient
self revealed; when I go forth in the wonder of vision to dwell upon
the beloved, or upon the wonder of the world, I go from the center of
the glad breast, through the eyes, and who will may look into the full
soft darkness of me, rich with my undiscovered presence. But if I am
displeased, then hard and cold my self stands in my eyes, and refuses
any communication, any sympathy, but merely stares outwards. It is the
motion of cold objectivity from the thoracic ganglion. Or, from the
same center of will, cold but intense my eyes may watch with
curiosity, as a cat watches a fly. It may be into my curiosity will
creep an element of warm gladness in the wonder which I am beholding
outside myself. Or it may be that my curiosity will be purely and
simply the cold, almost cruel curiosity of the upper will, directed
from the ganglion of the shoulders: such as is the acute attention of
an experimental scientist.

The eyes have, however, their sensual root as well. But this is hard
to transfer into language, as all _our_ vision, our modern Northern
vision is in the upper mode of actual seeing.

There is a sensual way of beholding. There is the dark, desirous look
of a savage who apprehends only that which has direct reference to
himself, that which stirs a certain dark yearning within his lower
self. Then his eye is fathomless blackness. But there is the dark eye
which glances with a certain fire, and has no depth. There is a keen
quick vision which watches, which beholds, but which never yields to
the object outside: as a cat watching its prey. The dark glancing look
which knows the _str