The Word (n.) is, in every instance, a loaded pistol.
A Word (n.) is but a milestone: it awakens a signification that goes off to the thing and drops the word — whereas the gaze keeps returning to a portrait.
A Word (n.) in a novel is contaminated by its object: this beautiful person not only signifies the heroine but in some degree represents her beauty — one subject felt Sympathy and Pity disagree because the T stood apart.
A Word (n.) sticks to its object as one of its qualities: thinking 'moon' while picturing the moon, the word can manifest the quality of being the moon.