I Am Firmly Of The Opinion That

Words [are] More Beautiful Than A Found Fall Leaf.

The World Of Conceptualized Ideas Is Quite Wonderful, Even When It's - Like Aristotle's Physics - An Outmoded Book. The Physics Is Not True. But The Reasoning Is Dazzling.

The Word Itself Has Another Color. It’s Not A Word With Any Resonance, Although The E Was Once Pronounced. There Is Only The Bump Now Between B And L, The Relief At The End, The Whew. It Hasn’t The Sly Turn Which Crimson Takes Halfway Through, Yellow’s Deceptive Jelly, Or The Rolled-down Sound In Brown. It Hasn’t Violet’s Rapid Sexual Shudder Or Like A Rough Road The Irregularity Of Ultramarine, The Low Puddle In Mauve Like A Pancake Covered In Cream, The Disapproving Purse To Pink, The Assertive Brevity Of Red, The Whine Of Green.

The True Alchemists Do Not Change Lead Into Gold; They Change The World Into Words.

Only The Slow Reader Will Notice The Odd Crowd Of Images-flier, Butcher, Seal-which Have Gathered To Comment On The Aims And Activities Of The Speeding Reader, Perhaps Like Gossips At A Wedding.