The world I live in

I know that if there were no odors for me I should still possess a considerable part of the world. Novelties and surprises would abound, adventures would thicken in the dark.

In all my experiences and thoughts I am conscious of a hand. Whatever moves me, whatever thrills me, is is a hand that touches me in the dark, and that touch is my reality. [...]
The delicate tremble of a butterfly's wings in my hand, the soft petals of violets curling in the cool folds of their leaves or lifting sweetly out of the meadow-grass, the clear, firm outline of face and limb, the smooth arch of a horse's neck and the velvety touch of his nose - all these, and a thousand resultant combinations, which take shape in mind, constitute my world.