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 hab