子浪小说

第8部分（第3页）

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

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