You forget what a miserable surface-matter this language is in which we try to reproduce our interior state of being.

Articulation is a shallow trick.

From the light Poh! which we toss off from our lips as we fling a nameless scribbler's impertinence into our waste-baskets, to the gravest utterances which comes from our throats in our moments of deepest need, is only a space of some three or four inches.

Words, which are a set of clickings, hissings, lispings, and so on, mean very little, compared to tones and expression of the features.

I give it up; I thought I could shadow forth in some feeble way, by their aid, the effect this young girl's face produces on my imagination; but it is of no use.