I love words that just gurgle, like little stifled sobs.
I love the prose that blazes its joy and its rapture like stars above me, that lights glowing suns of love, that carries me over the thin ice of its disdain, through the rough black nights of its hatred, that clangs down upon me the green, copper voice of its irony and its laughter.
If you would please me, then stretch over my head a rainbow of language in which I shall see red anger raging, blue gladness rejoicing and yellow mockery laughing.
Take me up and carry me where you will: I crave for nothing more than to be powerless against the power of your Word.
Strike me with your Word, torture me with your Word and then let your Word fall down upon me like a rain of kisses....
HENRY JAMES
By EDMUND GOSSE, C.B.