Man
knows

that there are
soul tints

more
bewildering ,

more
numberless,

and more
nameless

than the colours

of an autumn forest;...

Yet he seriously

believes

that these tints
can

every one
of them,

in their tones
and semitones,

in all their
blends and unions,

be accurately
represented by

an arbitrary system
of grunts and squeals.

He believes

that an
ordinary
civilized
stockbroker

can really produce

out of his
own insides

noises
which denote

all the mysteries
of memory

and all
the agonies

of desire.

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