I o all language, and I o learn to use it. C any particular effort; t fall from otc le deaf c trap ten painful process. But  is  ep by step until  distance bet stammered syllable and t in a line of Shakespeare.

    At first,  a neions. My ideas e; but as my knourn again and again to t, eager for furtion. Sometimes a ne some earlier experience had engraved on my brain.

    I remember t I first asked t;love.quot; ts in t to my teacried to kiss me: but at t time I did not like to  my mot ly round me and spelled into my ;I love helen.”

    quot; is love?quot; I asked.

    So ;It is ; pointing to my ,  time.  tand anytouc.

    I smelt ts in ion ;Is love tness of flowers?”

    quot;No,quot; said my teacher.

    Again I t. the warm sun was shining on us.

    quot;Is t love?quot; I asked, pointing in tion from ;Is t love?”

    It seemed to me t tiful things grow.

    But Miss Sullivan sly puzzled and disappointed. I t it strange t my teac show me love.

    A day or terringing beads of different sizes in symmetrical groups--takes, and Miss Sullivan ed t again and again le patience. Finally I noticed a very obvious error in tant I concentrated my attention on tried to touc;think.”

    In a flas t ion of an abstract idea.

    For a long time I ill--I  t trying to find a meaning for quot;lovequot; in t of t suddenly ts southern splendour.

    Again I asked my teac;Is t love?”

    quot;Love is somet ,quot; s t time I could not ood, s;You ca