三天光明

There are those, of course, who would adopt the epicurean motto of 'Eat, drink, and be merry,' but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death.

I speak, of course, of free men who have a choice, not condemned criminals whose sphere of activities is strictly delimited.

My next stop would be the Metropolitan Museum of Art, for just as the Museum of Natural History reveals the material aspects of the world, so does the Metropolitan show the myriad facets of the human spirit.

Discuss this article in the Arts & Literature forum of Post & Riposte.

Their eyes and ears take in all sights and sounds hazily, without concentration and with little appreciation.

I should want to see the pageant of man's progress, the kaleidoscope of the ages.

We should live each day with a gentleness, a vigor, and a keenness of appreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and months and years to come.

There are those, of course, who would adopt the epicurean motto of 'Eat, drink, and be merry,' but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death.

If I had eyes, how happily would I embark upon so fascinating a study!

I throw my eyes out of focus, so that I see no particular object but only a seething kaleidoscope of color.

There are those, of course, who would adopt the epicurean motto of 'Eat, drink, and be merry,' but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death.

Touch each object you want to touch as if tomorrow your tactile sense would fail.

In the afternoon of that first seeing day, I should take a long walk in the woods and intoxicate my eyes on the beauties of the world of Nature, trying desperately to absorb in a few hours the vast splendor which is constantly unfolding itself to those who can see.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such responses, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.

But, oh, how much I must miss, and how much pleasure you seeing ones can derive from watching and hearing the interplay of speech and movement in the unfolding of a dramatic performance!

I feel the delightful, velvety texture of a flower, and discover its remarkable convolutions; and something of the miracle of Nature is revealed to me.

But those who have never suffered impairment of sight or hearing seldom make the fullest use of these blessed faculties.

Busy boats chug and scurry about the river -- racy speed boats, stolid, snorting tugs.

The eyes of seeing persons soon become accustomed to the routine of their surroundings, and they actually see only the startling and spectacular.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

My next stop would be the Metropolitan Museum of Art, for just as the Museum of Natural History reveals the material aspects of the world, so does the Metropolitan show the myriad facets of the human spirit.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

On the way home from my woodland jaunt my path would lie near a farm so that I might see the patient horses ploughing in the field (perhaps I should see only a tractor!) and the serene content of men living close to the soil.

Court records reveal every day how inaccurately "eyewitnesses" see.

The first day I devoted to my friends, animate and inanimate.

He becomes more appreciative of the meaning of life and its permanent spiritual values.

How can so much be compressed into one day?

Only the deaf appreciate hearing, only the blind realize the manifold blessings that lie in sight.

I have felt copies of Parthenon friezes, and I have sensed the rhythmic beauty of charging Athenian warriors.

I have often thought it would be a blessing if each human being were stricken blind and deaf for a few days at some time during his early adult life.

But how I should like to see with my own eyes the fascinating figure of Hamlet, or the gusty Falstaff amid colorful Elizabethan trappings!

To me the pageant of seasons is a thrilling and unending drama, the action of which streams through my finger tips.

I wonder how many readers of this article have viewed this panorama of the face of living things as pictured in that inspiring museum.

How I should like to follow each movement of the graceful Hamlet, each strut of the hearty Falstaff!

This day I should devote to a hasty glimpse of the world, past and present.

My next stop would be the Metropolitan Museum of Art, for just as the Museum of Natural History reveals the material aspects of the world, so does the Metropolitan show the myriad facets of the human spirit.

Through the museums, of course.

I want to see the warm colors in the rugs under my feet, the pictures on the walls, the intimate trifles that transform a house into home.

I can vision only dimly the grace of a Pavlowa, although I know something of the delight of rhythm, for often I can sense the beat of music as it vibrates through the floor.

by Hellen Keller

I

All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time to live.

And I should like to look into the loyal, trusting eyes of my dogs -- the grave, canny little Scottie, Darkie, and the stalwart, understanding Great Dane, Helga, whose warm, tender, and playful friendships are so comforting to me.

I feel the delightful, velvety texture of a flower, and discover its remarkable convolutions; and something of the miracle of Nature is revealed to me.

Yet I am told that, to many of you who have eyes to see, the world of art is a dark night, unexplored and unilluminated.

So on this, my second day of sight, I should try to probe into the soul of man through his art.

I feel the delightful, velvety texture of a flower, and discover its remarkable convolutions; and something of the miracle of Nature is revealed to me.

I wonder how many readers of this article have viewed this panorama of the face of living things as pictured in that inspiring museum.

by Hellen Keller

I

All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time to live.

I have felt copies of Parthenon friezes, and I have sensed the rhythmic beauty of charging Athenian warriors.

I know well through my hands the sculptured gods and goddesses of the ancient Nile land.

Busy boats chug and scurry about the river -- racy speed boats, stolid, snorting tugs.

by Hellen Keller

I

All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time to live.

The gnarled, bearded features of Homer are dear to me, for he, too, knew blindness.

To me the pageant of seasons is a thrilling and unending drama, the action of which streams through my finger tips.

The same lethargy, I am afraid, characterizes the use of all our faculties and senses.

From Fifth Avenue I make a tour of the city -- to Park Avenue, to the slums, to factories, to parks where children play.

To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug.

The eyes of seeing persons soon become accustomed to the routine of their surroundings, and they actually see only the startling and spectacular.

We should live each day with a gentleness, a vigor, and a keenness of appreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and months and years to come.

As an experiment, I have questioned husbands of long standing about the color of their wives' eyes, and often they express embarrassed confusion and admit that they do not know.

You who see can spend many fruitful days there, but I, with my imaginary three days of sight, could only take a hasty glimpse, and pass on.

The same lethargy, I am afraid, characterizes the use of all our faculties and senses.

I have been able to gather something of this by tracing with my fingers the lines in sculptured marble; if this static grace can be so lovely, how much more acute must be the thrill of seeing grace in motion.

Occasionally, if I am very fortunate, I place my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy quiver of a bird in full song.

I should call to me all my dear friends and look long into their faces, imprinting upon my mind the outward evidences of the beauty that is within them.

Some see more than others, but few see everything that is within the range of their vision.

If, by some miracle, I were granted three seeing days, to be followed by a relapse into darkness, I should divide the period into three parts.

The eyes of seeing persons soon become accustomed to the routine of their surroundings, and they actually see only the startling and spectacular.

I drive across the lacy structure of steel which spans the East River, and I get a new and startling vision of the power and ingenuity of the mind of man.

In spring I touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud, the first sign of awakening Nature after her winter's sleep.

But how I should like to see with my own eyes the fascinating figure of Hamlet, or the gusty Falstaff amid colorful Elizabethan trappings!

Only the deaf appreciate hearing, only the blind realize the manifold blessings that lie in sight.

We should live each day with a gentleness, a vigor, and a keenness of appreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and months and years to come.

I should let my eyes rest, too, on the face of a baby, so that I could catch a vision of the eager, innocent beauty which precedes the individual's consciousness of the conflicts which life develops.

I cannot enjoy the beauty of rhythmic movement except in a sphere restricted to the touch of my hands.

And I am convinced, too, that I should become an inveterate window shopper, for it must be a delight to the eye to view the myriad articles of beauty on display.

I have passed my hands over a plaster cast of Michelangelo's inspiring and heroic Moses; I have sensed the power of Rodin; I have been awed by the devoted spirit of Gothic wood carving.

I should behold with awe the magnificent panorama of light with which the sun awakens the sleeping earth.

We should live each day with a gentleness, a vigor, and a keenness of appreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and months and years to come.

Busy boats chug and scurry about the river -- racy speed boats, stolid, snorting tugs.

I throw my eyes out of focus, so that I see no particular object but only a seething kaleidoscope of color.

I am sure I should not be disappointed in the panorama spread out before me, for to me it would be a vision of another world.

I who am blind can give one hint to those who see -- one admonition to those who would make full use of the gift of sight: Use your eyes as if tomorrow you would be stricken blind.

Such an attitude would emphasize sharply the values of life.

I should want not merely to see the outline of her face, so that I could cherish it in my memory, but to study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness and patience with which she accomplished the difficult task of my education.

He would try to awake their dormant and sluggish faculties.

How much easier, how much more satisfying it is for you who can see to grasp quickly the essential qualities of another person by watching the subtleties of expression, the quiver of a muscle, the flutter of a hand.

So we go about our petty tasks, hardly aware of our listless attitude toward life.

The first day I devoted to my friends, animate and inanimate.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

I feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf.

If with the oncoming darkness of the third night you knew that the sun would never rise for you again, how would you spend those three precious intervening days?

Only the deaf appreciate hearing, only the blind realize the manifold blessings that lie in sight.

In the afternoon of that first seeing day, I should take a long walk in the woods and intoxicate my eyes on the beauties of the world of Nature, trying desperately to absorb in a few hours the vast splendor which is constantly unfolding itself to those who can see.

Only the deaf appreciate hearing, only the blind realize the manifold blessings that lie in sight.

When we are in buoyant health, death is all but unimaginable.

I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such responses, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.

The same lethargy, I am afraid, characterizes the use of all our faculties and senses.

What an awe-inspiring sight, these glittering spires, these vast banks of stone and steel -- structures such as the gods might build for themselves!

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentations of th...

Such an attitude would emphasize sharply the values of life.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

This day I should devote to a hasty glimpse of the world, past and present.

On the way home from my woodland jaunt my path would lie near a farm so that I might see the patient horses ploughing in the field (perhaps I should see only a tractor!) and the serene content of men living close to the soil.

I see suffering, and I am compassionate.

The days stretch out in an endless vista.

At midnight my temporary respite from blindness would cease, and permanent night would close in on me again.

And since I could see only one play, I should be confronted by a many-horned dilemma, for there are scores of plays I should want to see.

You, too, would want to let your eyes rest long on the things that have become dear to you so that you could take the memory of them with you into the night that loomed before you.

If I had eyes, how happily would I embark upon so fascinating a study!

If I had eyes, how happily would I embark upon so fascinating a study!

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

I am delighted to have the cool waters of a brook rush through my open fingers.

Smell the perfume of flowers, taste with relish each morsel, as if tomorrow you could never smell and taste again.

Particularly does this observation apply to those who have lost sight and hearing in adult life.

But always we were interested in discovering just how the doomed man chose to spend his last days or his last hours.

Artists tell me that for a deep and true appreciation of art one must educate the eye.

What would you most want to let your gaze rest upon?

And I should like to look into the loyal, trusting eyes of my dogs -- the grave, canny little Scottie, Darkie, and the stalwart, understanding Great Dane, Helga, whose warm, tender, and playful friendships are so comforting to me.

You, too, would want to let your eyes rest long on the things that have become dear to you so that you could take the memory of them with you into the night that loomed before you.

How many of you, I wonder, when you gaze at a play, a movie, or any spectacle, realize and give thanks for the miracle of sight which enables you to enjoy its color, grace, and movement?

He would try to awake their dormant and sluggish faculties.

I start from my home in the quiet little suburb of Forest Hills, Long Island.

In the afternoon of that first seeing day, I should take a long walk in the woods and intoxicate my eyes on the beauties of the world of Nature, trying desperately to absorb in a few hours the vast splendor which is constantly unfolding itself to those who can see.

And I should like to look into the loyal, trusting eyes of my dogs -- the grave, canny little Scottie, Darkie, and the stalwart, understanding Great Dane, Helga, whose warm, tender, and playful friendships are so comforting to me.

Throughout the history of humanity the urge to artistic expression has been almost as powerful as the urge for food, shelter, and procreation.

The eyes of seeing persons soon become accustomed to the routine of their surroundings, and they actually see only the startling and spectacular.

What an awe-inspiring sight, these glittering spires, these vast banks of stone and steel -- structures such as the gods might build for themselves!

If I could see only one play, I should know how to picture in my mind the action of a hundred plays which I have read or had transferred to me through the medium of the manual alphabet.

But always we were interested in discovering just how the doomed man chose to spend his last days or his last hours.

Most of us, however, take life for granted.

It has often been noted that those who live, or have lived, in the shadow of death bring a mellow sweetness to everything they do.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

Only the deaf appreciate hearing, only the blind realize the manifold blessings that lie in sight.

How much easier, how much more satisfying it is for you who can see to grasp quickly the essential qualities of another person by watching the subtleties of expression, the quiver of a muscle, the flutter of a hand.

by Hellen Keller

I

All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time to live.

This day I should devote to a hasty glimpse of the world, past and present.

I stroll down Fifth Avenue.

And, incidentally, it is a chronic complaint of wives that their husbands do not notice new dresses, new hats, and changes in household arrangements.

I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such responses, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.

I pass my hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough, shaggy bark of a pine.

I feel the delightful, velvety texture of a flower, and discover its remarkable convolutions; and something of the miracle of Nature is revealed to me.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

But I am denied that deeper understanding of them which I am sure would come through sight of them, through watching their reactions to various expressed thoughts and circumstances, through noting the immediate and fleeting reactions of their eyes and countenance.

If with the oncoming darkness of the third night you knew that the sun would never rise for you again, how would you spend those three precious intervening days?

And since I could see only one play, I should be confronted by a many-horned dilemma, for there are scores of plays I should want to see.

Only the deaf appreciate hearing, only the blind realize the manifold blessings that lie in sight.

Do not most of you seeing people grasp casually the outward features of a face and let it go at that?

Friends who are near to me I know well, because through the months and years they reveal themselves to me in all their phases; but of casual friends I have only an incomplete impression, an impression gained from a handclasp, from spoken words which I take from their lips with my finger tips, or which they tap into the palm of my hand.

I want to see the warm colors in the rugs under my feet, the pictures on the walls, the intimate trifles that transform a house into home.

Upon my short visit to this temple of art I should not be able to review a fraction of that great world of art which is open to you.

I should want not merely to see the outline of her face, so that I could cherish it in my memory, but to study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness and patience with which she accomplished the difficult task of my education.

I speak, of course, of free men who have a choice, not condemned criminals whose sphere of activities is strictly delimited.

How many of you, I wonder, when you gaze at a play, a movie, or any spectacle, realize and give thanks for the miracle of sight which enables you to enjoy its color, grace, and movement?

Today I shall spend in the workaday world of the present, amid the haunts of men going about the business of life.

I drive across the lacy structure of steel which spans the East River, and I get a new and startling vision of the power and ingenuity of the mind of man.

If I were the president of a university I should establish a compulsory course in "How to Use Your Eyes."

I drive across the lacy structure of steel which spans the East River, and I get a new and startling vision of the power and ingenuity of the mind of man.

I should behold with awe the magnificent panorama of light with which the sun awakens the sleeping earth.

What happiness should we find in reviewing the past, what regrets?

I know their personalities, of course, through other means, through the thoughts they express to me, through whatever of their actions are revealed to me.

But I am denied that deeper understanding of them which I am sure would come through sight of them, through watching their reactions to various expressed thoughts and circumstances, through noting the immediate and fleeting reactions of their eyes and countenance.

There are those, of course, who would adopt the epicurean motto of 'Eat, drink, and be merry,' but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death.

And, incidentally, it is a chronic complaint of wives that their husbands do not notice new dresses, new hats, and changes in household arrangements.

You who see can spend many fruitful days there, but I, with my imaginary three days of sight, could only take a hasty glimpse, and pass on.

My hands have lingered upon the living marble of Roman sculpture as well as that of later generations.

Discuss this article in the Arts & Literature forum of Post & Riposte.

I can admire the simple lines of a Greek vase, but its figured decorations are lost to me.

How was it possible, I asked myself, to walk for an hour through the woods and see nothing worthy of note?

IV

The following morning, I should again greet the dawn, anxious to discover new delights, for I am sure that, for those who have eyes which really see, the dawn of each day must be a perpetually new revelation of beauty.

II

Perhaps I can best illustrate by imagining what I should most like to see if I were given the use of my eyes, say, for just three days.

My eyes would rest respectfully on the books in raised type which I have read, but they would be more eagerly interested in the printed books which seeing people can read, for during the long night of my life the books I have read and those which have been read to me have built themselves into a great shining lighthouse, revealing to me the deepest channels of human life and the human spirit.

At times my heart cries out with longing to see all these things.

In stories, the doomed hero is usually saved at the last minute by some stroke of fortune, but almost always his sense of values is changed.

III

The next day -- the second day of sight -- I should arise with the dawn and see the thrilling miracle by which night is transformed into day.

Smell the perfume of flowers, taste with relish each morsel, as if tomorrow you could never smell and taste again.

I have often thought it would be a blessing if each human being were stricken blind and deaf for a few days at some time during his early adult life.

I pass my hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough, shaggy bark of a pine.

But I cannot really picture their personalities by touch.

But, oh, how much I must miss, and how much pleasure you seeing ones can derive from watching and hearing the interplay of speech and movement in the unfolding of a dramatic performance!

I should be able to get only a superficial impression.

More splendid still, the whole magnificent world of painting would be opened to me, from the Italian Primitives, with their serene religious devotion, to the Moderns, with their feverish visions.

We should live each day with a gentleness, a vigor, and a keenness of appreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and months and years to come.

There are those, of course, who would adopt the epicurean motto of 'Eat, drink, and be merry,' but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death.

In spring I touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud, the first sign of awakening Nature after her winter's sleep.

It would be with extreme reluctance that I should leave the Metropolitan Museum, which contains the key to beauty -- a beauty so neglected.

And I should like to look into the loyal, trusting eyes of my dogs -- the grave, canny little Scottie, Darkie, and the stalwart, understanding Great Dane, Helga, whose warm, tender, and playful friendships are so comforting to me.

To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug.

How I should like to follow each movement of the graceful Hamlet, each strut of the hearty Falstaff!

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

I can vision only dimly the grace of a Pavlowa, although I know something of the delight of rhythm, for often I can sense the beat of music as it vibrates through the floor.

On the first day, I should want to see the people whose kindness and gentleness and companionship have made my life worth living.

I cannot enjoy the beauty of rhythmic movement except in a sphere restricted to the touch of my hands.

Even now I often attend theatrical performances of all sorts, but the action of the play must be spelled into my hand by a companion.

My eyes would rest respectfully on the books in raised type which I have read, but they would be more eagerly interested in the printed books which seeing people can read, for during the long night of my life the books I have read and those which have been read to me have built themselves into a great shining lighthouse, revealing to me the deepest channels of human life and the human spirit.

Their eyes and ears take in all sights and sounds hazily, without concentration and with little appreciation.

Smell the perfume of flowers, taste with relish each morsel, as if tomorrow you could never smell and taste again.

I can detect laughter, sorrow, and many other obvious emotions.

I should like to see in her eyes that strength of character which has enabled her to stand firm in the face of difficulties, and that compassion for all humanity which she has revealed to me so often.

How much easier, how much more satisfying it is for you who can see to grasp quickly the essential qualities of another person by watching the subtleties of expression, the quiver of a muscle, the flutter of a hand.

I speak, of course, of free men who have a choice, not condemned criminals whose sphere of activities is strictly delimited.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

I drive across the lacy structure of steel which spans the East River, and I get a new and startling vision of the power and ingenuity of the mind of man.

II

Perhaps I can best illustrate by imagining what I should most like to see if I were given the use of my eyes, say, for just three days.

by Hellen Keller

I

All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time to live.

For instance, can you describe accurately the faces of five good friends?

Only the deaf appreciate hearing, only the blind realize the manifold blessings that lie in sight.

If I could see only one play, I should know how to picture in my mind the action of a hundred plays which I have read or had transferred to me through the medium of the manual alphabet.

But, oh, how much I must miss, and how much pleasure you seeing ones can derive from watching and hearing the interplay of speech and movement in the unfolding of a dramatic performance!

My eye passes lightly over no single trifle; it strives to touch and hold closely each thing its gaze rests upon.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

by Hellen Keller

I

All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time to live.

To me the pageant of seasons is a thrilling and unending drama, the action of which streams through my finger tips.

We should live each day with a gentleness, a vigor, and a keenness of appreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and months and years to come.

But I am denied that deeper understanding of them which I am sure would come through sight of them, through watching their reactions to various expressed thoughts and circumstances, through noting the immediate and fleeting reactions of their eyes and countenance.

I can vision only dimly the grace of a Pavlowa, although I know something of the delight of rhythm, for often I can sense the beat of music as it vibrates through the floor.

Here, surrounded by green lawns, trees, and flowers, are neat little houses, happy with the voices and movements of wives and children, havens of peaceful rest for men who toil in the city.

Do not most of you seeing people grasp casually the outward features of a face and let it go at that?

Friends who are near to me I know well, because through the months and years they reveal themselves to me in all their phases; but of casual friends I have only an incomplete impression, an impression gained from a handclasp, from spoken words which I take from their lips with my finger tips, or which they tap into the palm of my hand.

Such stories set us thinking, wondering what we should do under similar circumstances.

One must learn through experience to weigh the merits of line, of composition, of form and color.

Particularly does this observation apply to those who have lost sight and hearing in adult life.

IV

The following morning, I should again greet the dawn, anxious to discover new delights, for I am sure that, for those who have eyes which really see, the dawn of each day must be a perpetually new revelation of beauty.

Friends who are near to me I know well, because through the months and years they reveal themselves to me in all their phases; but of casual friends I have only an incomplete impression, an impression gained from a handclasp, from spoken words which I take from their lips with my finger tips, or which they tap into the palm of my hand.

I am certain that the colors of women's dresses moving in a throng must be a gorgeous spectacle of which I should never tire.

It is human, perhaps, to appreciate little that which we have and to long for that which we have not, but it is a great pity that in the world of light the gift of sight is used only as a mere convenience rather than as a means of adding fullness to life.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentations of th...

How much easier, how much more satisfying it is for you who can see to grasp quickly the essential qualities of another person by watching the subtleties of expression, the quiver of a muscle, the flutter of a hand.

But always we were interested in discovering just how the doomed man chose to spend his last days or his last hours.

As an experiment, I have questioned husbands of long standing about the color of their wives' eyes, and often they express embarrassed confusion and admit that they do not know.

I am certain that the colors of women's dresses moving in a throng must be a gorgeous spectacle of which I should never tire.

He becomes more appreciative of the meaning of life and its permanent spiritual values.

It is human, perhaps, to appreciate little that which we have and to long for that which we have not, but it is a great pity that in the world of light the gift of sight is used only as a mere convenience rather than as a means of adding fullness to life.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

Some sights are pleasant, filling the heart with happiness; but some are miserably pathetic.

III

The next day -- the second day of sight -- I should arise with the dawn and see the thrilling miracle by which night is transformed into day.

He becomes more appreciative of the meaning of life and its permanent spiritual values.

To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug.

So the city becomes my destination.

The eyes of seeing persons soon become accustomed to the routine of their surroundings, and they actually see only the startling and spectacular.

But even in viewing the most spectacular sights the eyes are lazy.

In spring I touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud, the first sign of awakening Nature after her winter's sleep.

Friends who are near to me I know well, because through the months and years they reveal themselves to me in all their phases; but of casual friends I have only an incomplete impression, an impression gained from a handclasp, from spoken words which I take from their lips with my finger tips, or which they tap into the palm of my hand.

When dusk had fallen, I should experience the double delight of being able to see by artificial light, which the genius of man has created to extend the power of his sight when Nature decrees darkness.

I should like to see in her eyes that strength of character which has enabled her to stand firm in the face of difficulties, and that compassion for all humanity which she has revealed to me so often.

I have been able to gather something of this by tracing with my fingers the lines in sculptured marble; if this static grace can be so lovely, how much more acute must be the thrill of seeing grace in motion.

In the afternoon of that first seeing day, I should take a long walk in the woods and intoxicate my eyes on the beauties of the world of Nature, trying desperately to absorb in a few hours the vast splendor which is constantly unfolding itself to those who can see.

I should like to see in her eyes that strength of character which has enabled her to stand firm in the face of difficulties, and that compassion for all humanity which she has revealed to me so often.

In spring I touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud, the first sign of awakening Nature after her winter's sleep.

To me the pageant of seasons is a thrilling and unending drama, the action of which streams through my finger tips.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

Hear the music of voices, the song of a bird, the mighty strains of an orchestra, as if you would be stricken deaf tomorrow.

This animated picture is a part of the lives of millions of people every day.

Such stories set us thinking, wondering what we should do under similar circumstances.

When dusk had fallen, I should experience the double delight of being able to see by artificial light, which the genius of man has created to extend the power of his sight when Nature decrees darkness.

I look ahead, and before me rise the fantastic towers of New York, a city that seems to have stepped from the pages of a fairy story.

What happiness should we find in reviewing the past, what regrets?

Only when darkness had again descended upon me should I realize how much I had left unseen.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentations

In the afternoon of that first seeing day, I should take a long walk in the woods and intoxicate my eyes on the beauties of the world of Nature, trying desperately to absorb in a few hours the vast splendor which is constantly unfolding itself to those who can see.

If I could see only one play, I should know how to picture in my mind the action of a hundred plays which I have read or had transferred to me through the medium of the manual alphabet.

I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such responses, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.

I know well through my hands the sculptured gods and goddesses of the ancient Nile land.

We seldom think of it.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

This, according to the terms of my imagined miracle, is to be my third and last day of sight.

He becomes more appreciative of the meaning of life and its permanent spiritual values.

Discuss this article in the Arts & Literature forum of Post & Riposte.

I should want not merely to see the outline of her face, so that I could cherish it in my memory, but to study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness and patience with which she accomplished the difficult task of my education.

I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such responses, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.

What happiness should we find in reviewing the past, what regrets?

So we go about our petty tasks, hardly aware of our listless attitude toward life.

If, by some miracle, I were granted three seeing days, to be followed by a relapse into darkness, I should divide the period into three parts.

When dusk had fallen, I should experience the double delight of being able to see by artificial light, which the genius of man has created to extend the power of his sight when Nature decrees darkness.

I have often thought it would be a blessing if each human being were stricken blind and deaf for a few days at some time during his early adult life.

by Hellen Keller

I

All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time to live.

I have passed my hands over a plaster cast of Michelangelo's inspiring and heroic Moses; I have sensed the power of Rodin; I have been awed by the devoted spirit of Gothic wood carving.

There are those, of course, who would adopt the epicurean motto of 'Eat, drink, and be merry,' but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death.

I have felt copies of Parthenon friezes, and I have sensed the rhythmic beauty of charging Athenian warriors.

The professor would try to show his pupils how they could add joy to their lives by really seeing what passes unnoticed before them.

Even now I often attend theatrical performances of all sorts, but the action of the play must be spelled into my hand by a companion.

Such an attitude would emphasize sharply the values of life.

What events, what experiences, what associations, should we crowd into those last hours as mortal beings?

I should want not merely to see the outline of her face, so that I could cherish it in my memory, but to study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness and patience with which she accomplished the difficult task of my education.

I should look deep into the canvases of Raphael, Leonardo da Vinci, Titian, Rembrandt.

How I should like to follow each movement of the graceful Hamlet, each strut of the hearty Falstaff!

My eyes would rest respectfully on the books in raised type which I have read, but they would be more eagerly interested in the printed books which seeing people can read, for during the long night of my life the books I have read and those which have been read to me have built themselves into a great shining lighthouse, revealing to me the deepest channels of human life and the human spirit.

I can admire the simple lines of a Greek vase, but its figured decorations are lost to me.

How many of you, I wonder, when you gaze at a play, a movie, or any spectacle, realize and give thanks for the miracle of sight which enables you to enjoy its color, grace, and movement?

I am delighted to have the cool waters of a brook rush through my open fingers.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentations of th...

But those who have never suffered impairment of sight or hearing seldom make the fullest use of these blessed faculties.

I should behold with awe the magnificent panorama of light with which the sun awakens the sleeping earth.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentations of th...

My eyes would rest respectfully on the books in raised type which I have read, but they would be more eagerly interested in the printed books which seeing people can read, for during the long night of my life the books I have read and those which have been read to me have built themselves into a great shining lighthouse, revealing to me the deepest channels of human life and the human spirit.

I can well imagine that cadenced motion must be one of the most pleasing sights in the world.

Your eyes would touch and embrace every object that came within your range of vision.

When dusk had fallen, I should experience the double delight of being able to see by artificial light, which the genius of man has created to extend the power of his sight when Nature decrees darkness.

And, incidentally, it is a chronic complaint of wives that their husbands do not notice new dresses, new hats, and changes in household arrangements.

I who cannot see find hundreds of things to interest me through mere touch.

Here, surrounded by green lawns, trees, and flowers, are neat little houses, happy with the voices and movements of wives and children, havens of peaceful rest for men who toil in the city.

I throw my eyes out of focus, so that I see no particular object but only a seething kaleidoscope of color.

I have passed my hands over a plaster cast of Michelangelo's inspiring and heroic Moses; I have sensed the power of Rodin; I have been awed by the devoted spirit of Gothic wood carving.

It would be with extreme reluctance that I should leave the Metropolitan Museum, which contains the key to beauty -- a beauty so neglected.

Friends who are near to me I know well, because through the months and years they reveal themselves to me in all their phases; but of casual friends I have only an incomplete impression, an impression gained from a handclasp, from spoken words which I take from their lips with my finger tips, or which they tap into the palm of my hand.

Throughout the history of humanity the urge to artistic expression has been almost as powerful as the urge for food, shelter, and procreation.

There are those, of course, who would adopt the epicurean motto of 'Eat, drink, and be merry,' but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death.

When dusk had fallen, I should experience the double delight of being able to see by artificial light, which the genius of man has created to extend the power of his sight when Nature decrees darkness.

And I should like to look into the loyal, trusting eyes of my dogs -- the grave, canny little Scottie, Darkie, and the stalwart, understanding Great Dane, Helga, whose warm, tender, and playful friendships are so comforting to me.

Some see more than others, but few see everything that is within the range of their vision.

From Fifth Avenue I make a tour of the city -- to Park Avenue, to the slums, to factories, to parks where children play.

Such an attitude would emphasize sharply the values of life.

Discuss this article in the Arts & Literature forum of Post & Riposte.

I who am blind can give one hint to those who see -- one admonition to those who would make full use of the gift of sight: Use your eyes as if tomorrow you would be stricken blind.

by Hellen Keller

I

All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time to live.

Thereafter the touch of every object would bring a glowing memory of how that object looked.

Even now I often attend theatrical performances of all sorts, but the action of the play must be spelled into my hand by a companion.

Perhaps there are many serious pursuits to which I should devote the few remaining hours, but I am afraid that on the evening of that last day I should again run away to the theatre, to a hilariously funny play, so that I might appreciate the overtones of comedy in the human spirit.

What events, what experiences, what associations, should we crowd into those last hours as mortal beings?

It would be with extreme reluctance that I should leave the Metropolitan Museum, which contains the key to beauty -- a beauty so neglected.

I should want not merely to see the outline of her face, so that I could cherish it in my memory, but to study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness and patience with which she accomplished the difficult task of my education.

So we go about our petty tasks, hardly aware of our listless attitude toward life.

How much easier, how much more satisfying it is for you who can see to grasp quickly the essential qualities of another person by watching the subtleties of expression, the quiver of a muscle, the flutter of a hand.

I start from my home in the quiet little suburb of Forest Hills, Long Island.

If I could see only one play, I should know how to picture in my mind the action of a hundred plays which I have read or had transferred to me through the medium of the manual alphabet.

How I should like to follow each movement of the graceful Hamlet, each strut of the hearty Falstaff!

I pass my hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough, shaggy bark of a pine.

But I am denied that deeper understanding of them which I am sure would come through sight of them, through watching their reactions to various expressed thoughts and circumstances, through noting the immediate and fleeting reactions of their eyes and countenance.

I should let my eyes rest, too, on the face of a baby, so that I could catch a vision of the eager, innocent beauty which precedes the individual's consciousness of the conflicts which life develops.

I should want not merely to see the outline of her face, so that I could cherish it in my memory, but to study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness and patience with which she accomplished the difficult task of my education.

I feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf.

More splendid still, the whole magnificent world of painting would be opened to me, from the Italian Primitives, with their serene religious devotion, to the Moderns, with their feverish visions.

I look ahead, and before me rise the fantastic towers of New York, a city that seems to have stepped from the pages of a fairy story.

Here, surrounded by green lawns, trees, and flowers, are neat little houses, happy with the voices and movements of wives and children, havens of peaceful rest for men who toil in the city.

Discuss this article in the Arts & Literature forum of Post & Riposte.

What events, what experiences, what associations, should we crowd into those last hours as mortal beings?

III

The next day -- the second day of sight -- I should arise with the dawn and see the thrilling miracle by which night is transformed into day.

If I were the president of a university I should establish a compulsory course in "How to Use Your Eyes."

I can admire the simple lines of a Greek vase, but its figured decorations are lost to me.

In stories, the doomed hero is usually saved at the last minute by some stroke of fortune, but almost always his sense of values is changed.

At midnight my temporary respite from blindness would cease, and permanent night would close in on me again.

And while I am imagining, suppose you, too, set your mind to work on the problem of how you would use your own eyes if you had only three more days to see.

At midnight my temporary respite from blindness would cease, and permanent night would close in on me again.

But always we were interested in discovering just how the doomed man chose to spend his last days or his last hours.

One of my dearest memories is of the time when Joseph Jefferson allowed me to touch his face and hands as he went through some of the gestures and speeches of his beloved Rip Van Winkle.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

IV

The following morning, I should again greet the dawn, anxious to discover new delights, for I am sure that, for those who have eyes which really see, the dawn of each day must be a perpetually new revelation of beauty.

Occasionally, if I am very fortunate, I place my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy quiver of a bird in full song.

I am anxious to compare my fancy with reality.

One must learn through experience to weigh the merits of line, of composition, of form and color.

As an experiment, I have questioned husbands of long standing about the color of their wives' eyes, and often they express embarrassed confusion and admit that they do not know.

And I should pray for the glory of a colorful sunset.

I see serious determination, and I am proud.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

I want to see the warm colors in the rugs under my feet, the pictures on the walls, the intimate trifles that transform a house into home.

One must learn through experience to weigh the merits of line, of composition, of form and color.

I have been able to gather something of this by tracing with my fingers the lines in sculptured marble; if this static grace can be so lovely, how much more acute must be the thrill of seeing grace in motion.

I should want to feast my eyes upon the warm colors of Veronese, study the mysteries of El Greco, catch a new vision of Nature from Corot.

I am sure I should not be disappointed in the panorama spread out before me, for to me it would be a vision of another world.

But does it ever occur to you to use your sight to see into the inner nature of a friend or acquaintance?

More splendid still, the whole magnificent world of painting would be opened to me, from the Italian Primitives, with their serene religious devotion, to the Moderns, with their feverish visions.

I should let my eyes rest, too, on the face of a baby, so that I could catch a vision of the eager, innocent beauty which precedes the individual's consciousness of the conflicts which life develops.

But naturally, in my limited time of imaginary sight, I should choose the place where the key unlocks the greatest treasures in the shortest time.

What events, what experiences, what associations, should we crowd into those last hours as mortal beings?

Perhaps there are many serious pursuits to which I should devote the few remaining hours, but I am afraid that on the evening of that last day I should again run away to the theatre, to a hilariously funny play, so that I might appreciate the overtones of comedy in the human spirit.

It is the same old story of not being grateful for what we have until we lose it, of not being conscious of health until we are ill.

The eyes of seeing persons soon become accustomed to the routine of their surroundings, and they actually see only the startling and spectacular.

It would be with extreme reluctance that I should leave the Metropolitan Museum, which contains the key to beauty -- a beauty so neglected.

For instance, can you describe accurately the faces of five good friends?

Hear the music of voices, the song of a bird, the mighty strains of an orchestra, as if you would be stricken deaf tomorrow.

My eyes would rest respectfully on the books in raised type which I have read, but they would be more eagerly interested in the printed books which seeing people can read, for during the long night of my life the books I have read and those which have been read to me have built themselves into a great shining lighthouse, revealing to me the deepest channels of human life and the human spirit.

I have been able to gather something of this by tracing with my fingers the lines in sculptured marble; if this static grace can be so lovely, how much more acute must be the thrill of seeing grace in motion.

I should let my eyes rest, too, on the face of a baby, so that I could catch a vision of the eager, innocent beauty which precedes the individual's consciousness of the conflicts which life develops.

And, incidentally, it is a chronic complaint of wives that their husbands do not notice new dresses, new hats, and changes in household arrangements.

But I am denied that deeper understanding of them which I am sure would come through sight of them, through watching their reactions to various expressed thoughts and circumstances, through noting the immediate and fleeting reactions of their eyes and countenance.

I speak, of course, of free men who have a choice, not condemned criminals whose sphere of activities is strictly delimited.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

I should want not merely to see the outline of her face, so that I could cherish it in my memory, but to study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness and patience with which she accomplished the difficult task of my education.

Many, of course, have not had the opportunity, but I am sure that many who have had the opportunity have not made use of it.

Such an attitude would emphasize sharply the values of life.

Throughout the history of humanity the urge to artistic expression has been almost as powerful as the urge for food, shelter, and procreation.

I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such responses, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.

I see serious determination, and I am proud.

I can detect laughter, sorrow, and many other obvious emotions.

Always my eyes are open wide to all the sights of both happiness and misery so that I may probe deep and add to my understanding of how people work and live.

There are those, of course, who would adopt the epicurean motto of 'Eat, drink, and be merry,' but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death.

Particularly does this observation apply to those who have lost sight and hearing in adult life.

Such stories set us thinking, wondering what we should do under similar circumstances.

One of my dearest memories is of the time when Joseph Jefferson allowed me to touch his face and hands as he went through some of the gestures and speeches of his beloved Rip Van Winkle.

From Fifth Avenue I make a tour of the city -- to Park Avenue, to the slums, to factories, to parks where children play.

And since I could see only one play, I should be confronted by a many-horned dilemma, for there are scores of plays I should want to see.

When dusk had fallen, I should experience the double delight of being able to see by artificial light, which the genius of man has created to extend the power of his sight when Nature decrees darkness.

How much easier, how much more satisfying it is for you who can see to grasp quickly the essential qualities of another person by watching the subtleties of expression, the quiver of a muscle, the flutter of a hand.

One of my dearest memories is of the time when Joseph Jefferson allowed me to touch his face and hands as he went through some of the gestures and speeches of his beloved Rip Van Winkle.

I can detect laughter, sorrow, and many other obvious emotions.

I pass my hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough, shaggy bark of a pine.

I am delighted to have the cool waters of a brook rush through my open fingers.

How much easier, how much more satisfying it is for you who can see to grasp quickly the essential qualities of another person by watching the subtleties of expression, the quiver of a muscle, the flutter of a hand.

I should want not merely to see the outline of her face, so that I could cherish it in my memory, but to study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness and patience with which she accomplished the difficult task of my education.

I should let my eyes rest, too, on the face of a baby, so that I could catch a vision of the eager, innocent beauty which precedes the individual's consciousness of the conflicts which life develops.

Recently I was visited by a very good friend who had just returned from a long walk in the woods, and I asked her what she had observed.

"Nothing in particular," she replied.

These arts which can be touched have meaning for me, but even they were meant to be seen rather than felt, and I can only guess at the beauty which remains hidden from me.

I take a stay-at-home trip abroad by visiting the foreign quarters.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

I look ahead, and before me rise the fantastic towers of New York, a city that seems to have stepped from the pages of a fairy story.

These arts which can be touched have meaning for me, but even they were meant to be seen rather than felt, and I can only guess at the beauty which remains hidden from me.

I should want not merely to see the outline of her face, so that I could cherish it in my memory, but to study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness and patience with which she accomplished the difficult task of my education.

Even now I often attend theatrical performances of all sorts, but the action of the play must be spelled into my hand by a companion.

I should want not merely to see the outline of her face, so that I could cherish it in my memory, but to study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness and patience with which she accomplished the difficult task of my education.

At times my heart cries out with longing to see all these things.

On that busy first day I should also view the small simple things of my home.

And, incidentally, it is a chronic complaint of wives that their husbands do not notice new dresses, new hats, and changes in household arrangements.

As an experiment, I have questioned husbands of long standing about the color of their wives' eyes, and often they express embarrassed confusion and admit that they do not know.

But my mind would be so crowded with glorious memories that I should have little time for regrets.

My hands have lingered upon the living marble of Roman sculpture as well as that of later generations.

I shall have no time to waste in regrets or longings; there is too much to see.

I should behold with awe the magnificent panorama of light with which the sun awakens the sleeping earth.

I look ahead, and before me rise the fantastic towers of New York, a city that seems to have stepped from the pages of a fairy story.

Perhaps there are many serious pursuits to which I should devote the few remaining hours, but I am afraid that on the evening of that last day I should again run away to the theatre, to a hilariously funny play, so that I might appreciate the overtones of comedy in the human spirit.

But does it ever occur to you to use your sight to see into the inner nature of a friend or acquaintance?

It is the same old story of not being grateful for what we have until we lose it, of not being conscious of health until we are ill.

I should want to feast my eyes upon the warm colors of Veronese, study the mysteries of El Greco, catch a new vision of Nature from Corot.

A given event will be "seen" in several different ways by as many witnesses.

If with the oncoming darkness of the third night you knew that the sun would never rise for you again, how would you spend those three precious intervening days?

But I am denied that deeper understanding of them which I am sure would come through sight of them, through watching their reactions to various expressed thoughts and circumstances, through noting the immediate and fleeting reactions of their eyes and countenance.

I should let my eyes rest, too, on the face of a baby, so that I could catch a vision of the eager, innocent beauty which precedes the individual's consciousness of the conflicts which life develops.

When we are in buoyant health, death is all but unimaginable.

I can admire the simple lines of a Greek vase, but its figured decorations are lost to me.

In spring I touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud, the first sign of awakening Nature after her winter's sleep.

Occasionally, if I am very fortunate, I place my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy quiver of a bird in full song.

I should want not merely to see the outline of her face, so that I could cherish it in my memory, but to study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness and patience with which she accomplished the difficult task of my education.

I take a stay-at-home trip abroad by visiting the foreign quarters.

I feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf.

My heart is full of the images of people and things.

Here, surrounded by green lawns, trees, and flowers, are neat little houses, happy with the voices and movements of wives and children, havens of peaceful rest for men who toil in the city.

Oh, the things that I should see if I had the power of sight for just three days!

Perhaps this short outline of how I should spend three days of sight does not agree with the programme you would set for yourself if you knew that you were about to be stricken blind.

It would be with extreme reluctance that I should leave the Metropolitan Museum, which contains the key to beauty -- a beauty so neglected.

Make the most of every sense; glory in all the facets of pleasure and beauty which the world reveals to you through the several means of contact which Nature provides.

We should live each day with a gentleness, a vigor, and a keenness of appreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and months and years to come.

I should let my eyes rest, too, on the face of a baby, so that I could catch a vision of the eager, innocent beauty which precedes the individual's consciousness of the conflicts which life develops.

More splendid still, the whole magnificent world of painting would be opened to me, from the Italian Primitives, with their serene religious devotion, to the Moderns, with their feverish visions.

But I am denied that deeper understanding of them which I am sure would come through sight of them, through watching their reactions to various expressed thoughts and circumstances, through noting the immediate and fleeting reactions of their eyes and countenance.

And I should like to look into the loyal, trusting eyes of my dogs -- the grave, canny little Scottie, Darkie, and the stalwart, understanding Great Dane, Helga, whose warm, tender, and playful friendships are so comforting to me.

As an experiment, I have questioned husbands of long standing about the color of their wives' eyes, and often they express embarrassed confusion and admit that they do not know.

We should live each day with a gentleness, a vigor, and a keenness of appreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and months and years to come.

I am anxious to compare my fancy with reality.

But perhaps if I had sight I should be like most other women -- too interested in styles and the cut of individual dresses to give much attention to the splendor of color in the mass.

If I were the president of a university I should establish a compulsory course in "How to Use Your Eyes."

But I am denied that deeper understanding of them which I am sure would come through sight of them, through watching their reactions to various expressed thoughts and circumstances, through noting the immediate and fleeting reactions of their eyes and countenance.

Now and then I have tested my seeing friends to discover what they see.

I can detect laughter, sorrow, and many other obvious emotions.

The same key lies waiting in smaller museums, and in books on the shelves of even small libraries.

On the way home from my woodland jaunt my path would lie near a farm so that I might see the patient horses ploughing in the field (perhaps I should see only a tractor!) and the serene content of men living close to the soil.

What events, what experiences, what associations, should we crowd into those last hours as mortal beings?

Friends who are near to me I know well, because through the months and years they reveal themselves to me in all their phases; but of casual friends I have only an incomplete impression, an impression gained from a handclasp, from spoken words which I take from their lips with my finger tips, or which they tap into the palm of my hand.

And I should like to look into the loyal, trusting eyes of my dogs -- the grave, canny little Scottie, Darkie, and the stalwart, understanding Great Dane, Helga, whose warm, tender, and playful friendships are so comforting to me.

I am, however, sure that if you actually faced that fate your eyes would open to things you had never seen before, storing up memories for the long night ahead.

He becomes more appreciative of the meaning of life and its permanent spiritual values.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentations of th...

Make the most of every sense; glory in all the facets of pleasure and beauty which the world reveals to you through the several means of contact which Nature provides.

It is human, perhaps, to appreciate little that which we have and to long for that which we have not, but it is a great pity that in the world of light the gift of sight is used only as a mere convenience rather than as a means of adding fullness to life.

My eyes would rest respectfully on the books in raised type which I have read, but they would be more eagerly interested in the printed books which seeing people can read, for during the long night of my life the books I have read and those which have been read to me have built themselves into a great shining lighthouse, revealing to me the deepest channels of human life and the human spirit.

On the way home from my woodland jaunt my path would lie near a farm so that I might see the patient horses ploughing in the field (perhaps I should see only a tractor!) and the serene content of men living close to the soil.

When dusk had fallen, I should experience the double delight of being able to see by artificial light, which the genius of man has created to extend the power of his sight when Nature decrees darkness.

I see suffering, and I am compassionate.

Upon my short visit to this temple of art I should not be able to review a fraction of that great world of art which is open to you.

Busy boats chug and scurry about the river -- racy speed boats, stolid, snorting tugs.

I speak, of course, of free men who have a choice, not condemned criminals whose sphere of activities is strictly delimited.

How much easier, how much more satisfying it is for you who can see to grasp quickly the essential qualities of another person by watching the subtleties of expression, the quiver of a muscle, the flutter of a hand.

And the same method can be applied to the other senses.

It has often been noted that those who live, or have lived, in the shadow of death bring a mellow sweetness to everything they do.

As an experiment, I have questioned husbands of long standing about the color of their wives' eyes, and often they express embarrassed confusion and admit that they do not know.

Their eyes and ears take in all sights and sounds hazily, without concentration and with little appreciation.

So we go about our petty tasks, hardly aware of our listless attitude toward life.

I throw my eyes out of focus, so that I see no particular object but only a seething kaleidoscope of color.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

This, according to the terms of my imagined miracle, is to be my third and last day of sight.

I feel the delightful, velvety texture of a flower, and discover its remarkable convolutions; and something of the miracle of Nature is revealed to me.

And I should like to look into the loyal, trusting eyes of my dogs -- the grave, canny little Scottie, Darkie, and the stalwart, understanding Great Dane, Helga, whose warm, tender, and playful friendships are so comforting to me.

Even now I often attend theatrical performances of all sorts, but the action of the play must be spelled into my hand by a companion.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentation...

And I should pray for the glory of a colorful sunset.

How was it possible, I asked myself, to walk for an hour through the woods and see nothing worthy of note?

Their eyes are blind to this magnificent sight because it is so familiar to them.

Hear the music of voices, the song of a bird, the mighty strains of an orchestra, as if you would be stricken deaf tomorrow.

To me the pageant of seasons is a thrilling and unending drama, the action of which streams through my finger tips.

My third day of sight is drawing to an end.

How many, I wonder, give it so much as a second glance?

I see serious determination, and I am proud.

I am anxious to compare my fancy with reality.

I do not know what it is to see into the heart of a friend through that "window of the soul," the eye.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentations of th...

And while I am imagining, suppose you, too, set your mind to work on the problem of how you would use your own eyes if you had only three more days to see.

Sometimes I have thought it would be an excellent rule to live each day as if we should die tomorrow.

I drive across the lacy structure of steel which spans the East River, and I get a new and startling vision of the power and ingenuity of the mind of man.

Throughout the history of humanity the urge to artistic expression has been almost as powerful as the urge for food, shelter, and procreation.

My next stop would be the Metropolitan Museum of Art, for just as the Museum of Natural History reveals the material aspects of the world, so does the Metropolitan show the myriad facets of the human spirit.

Yet, those who have eyes apparently see little.

I am, however, sure that if you actually faced that fate your eyes would open to things you had never seen before, storing up memories for the long night ahead.

Apollos and Venuses and the Winged Victory of Samothrace are friends of my finger tips.

I am sure I should not be disappointed in the panorama spread out before me, for to me it would be a vision of another world.

Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there -- animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentations of th...

When dusk had fallen, I should experience the double delight of being able to see by artificial light, which the genius of man has created to extend the power of his sight when Nature decrees darkness.

For instance, can you describe accurately the faces of five good friends?

The professor would try to show his pupils how they could add joy to their lives by really seeing what passes unnoticed before them.

Particularly does this observation apply to those who have lost sight and hearing in adult life.

And I should like to look into the loyal, trusting eyes of my dogs -- the grave, canny little Scottie, Darkie, and the stalwart, understanding Great Dane, Helga, whose warm, tender, and playful friendships are so comforting to me.