Or, from the same center of will, cold but intense my eyes may watch with curiosity, as a cat watches a fly.

It may be into my curiosity will creep an element of warm gladness in the wonder which I am beholding outside myself.

Or it may be that my curiosity will be purely and simply the cold, almost cruel curiosity of the upper will, directed from the ganglion of the shoulders: such as is the acute attention of an experimental scientist.
The eyes have, however, their sensual root as well.

But this is hard to transfer into language, as all _our_ vision, our modern Northern vision is in the upper mode of actual seeing.
There is a sensual way of beholding.

There is the dark, desirous look of a savage who apprehends only that which has direct reference to himself, that which stirs a certain dark yearning within his lower self.