An Image (n.) is a sensation that would become a hallucination if nothing stopped it: the rest of the mind exists to talk it down.
An Image (n.) is a bundle of features, not a thing, and so never has to choose: Shirley Temple could be baby and seductress at once.
The Image (n.) is an intruder in the mind: it will not take orders, and it lives among our thoughts like a foreign population in an orderly state.
An Image (n.) is a quasi-organism lodged in the thinker: it shows will, appetite, and motion of its own, and sometimes moves in, sometimes moves out.
An Image (n.) is the only thing you can put on a scale: concepts are too thin to weigh and perceptions too sticky, so every real choice is a weighing of images.
An Image (n.) begins as an embryo of movement: it grows for itself, anticipating an object it has not yet met.
An Image (n.) is perception's sketch: since the object is only given at the end of the act, every step before is guided by an image richer in possibilities than any object.
An Image (n.) is the equilibrium of the living with its milieu, not the rest state of a single system: it is the node where subject and world are linked.
An Image (n.) is already partially formalized knowledge: by analogy it permits generalization, which is what Aristotle meant when he said the soul never thinks without images.
An Image (n.) is a weapon charging forward; a symbol is the same beast seen in profile, poised, its gesture not yet decided.
An Image (n.) is a reserve of solutions, the way a roadmap is a reserve of routes: the more precise it is, the faster the detours hidden in it are found.
An Image (n.) spreads faster than an idea because it is half mind and half thing: once it hardens into an institution or a product, it presses back on the society that made it.
An Image (n.) by itself is as blind as a perception without an image: neither can take the register of a meeting afterward, and only together do they see.