A Feeling (n.) is a direction rather than a state — and in the realm of direction there is no North without South.
Feeling (n.) knows our nature as we know how to move our legs — more intimately than objective description, which knows only surfaces.
Feeling (n.) in that stillness comes and goes without turmoil, observed with no one observing, passing trackless like birds in the sky.
Feeling (n.) depends to an enormous, unsuspected degree on what we think, so thought's contrasts strike us as nature's contrasts.
Feeling (n.) an event inwardly, rather than rushing into action to escape the tension, is a wonderful power of adapting to life — water answering the shape of the ground.
Feeling (n.) is "I": whatever feeling is present is you, so "I feel fine" only means a fine feeling is here.
Feeling (n.) perpetuates itself by creating a feeler behind it; seen without a name, it moves on.