Creates fluids, solids, colors--anything, everything--out of the airy nothing which is called Thought.

A man imagines a silk thread, imagines a machine to make it, imagines a picture, then by weeks of labor embroiders it on canvas with the thread.

I think the whole thing, and in a moment it is before you--created.
"I think a poem, music, the record of a game of chess--anything--and it is there.

This is the immortal mind--nothing is beyond its reach.
Nothing can obstruct my vision; the rocks are transparent to me, and darkness is daylight.

I do not need to open a book; I take the whole of its contents into my mind at a single glance, through the cover; and in a million years I could not forget a single word of it, or its place in the volume.