Description (n.) must take the place of explanation.
Description (n.) need not piece a thing together like a cabinet maker's drawing; a novelist's 'indirect' description — a small rickety Moorish table for smoker's requisites — can bring it before you in a flash.
Description (n.) has no one real and direct form set against indirect ones; the so-called real description forgets the purposes it fails to serve.
Description (n.) here keeps lapsing into explanation, and the descriptions that suggest themselves are all misleading.
Description (n.) is hard because we think the facts must be filled out to be understood, like scattered patches completed into a shape — whereas here is the whole; complete it and you falsify it.
Description (n.) is a very special language-game, and we must dig around this hard substratum of our concepts.
Description (n.) and object are equivalent in mathematics; a number's properties are the properties of a position.