一兩天後，那時我正拿細線在串連大小不同的珠子；兩個對稱的大珠子接著三顆小珠子，這樣反覆。我經常做錯，而蘇利文老師不厭其煩，溫和的一次次給我指點。最後，我發現一個順序上極明顯的錯誤──然而，有一瞬間，我的注意全神貫注在這練習，揣摸要怎樣安排這些珠子才好，而蘇利文老師在我的前額上以強調的力勁拼寫「想」這字。 

靈光一閃，我恍然大悟，這「想」字，原來就是我頭腦中正在處理事的活動過程；那是我有生以來第一次清楚意識到自己認識了一個抽象的概念。後來，有很長的一段時間裡，我仍然──我沒再思索膝蓋上的珠子，而是在這抽象概念的啟發中，嘗試給「愛」這字的概念找出意義。 

這一整天太陽都裹在雲團中，但剛下過陣雨，只一下子太陽就向前爆發出南方的壯麗輝煌。 

再一次，我問老師：這陽光不是愛嗎? 

「愛，就像太陽還沒出來前，堆積在天空裡的雲層。」蘇利文老師答。這比喻我那時還沒法理解，然後，她以比這句話較簡白的字句，解釋說：妳知道雲是無法捉摸的，但是妳能夠觸摸到雨，並且感覺到在炎熱一天後下的雨，會讓花和乾渴的地面多麼快樂。愛也是妳捉摸不到的，在它所洋溢流動的任何事物中，妳會覺得甜蜜和愉快。在沒有愛的情況下，妳不會覺得愉快，不會覺得幸福，也不會有遊戲的興趣。

A day or two afterward I was stringing beads of different sizes in symmetrical groups–two large beads, three small ones, and so on. I had made many mistakes, and Miss Sullivan had pointed them out again and again with gentle patience. Finally I noticed a very obvious error in the sequence and for an instant I concentrated my attention on the lesson and tried to think how I should have arranged the beads. Miss Sullivan touched my forehead and spelled with decided emphasis, "Think."

In a flash I knew that the word was the name of the process that was going on in my head. This was my first conscious perception of an abstract idea.

For a long time I was still–I was not think ing of the beads in my lap, but trying to find a meaning for "love" in the light of this new idea. The sun had been under a cloud all day, and there had been brief showers; but suddenly the sun broke forth in all its southern splendour.

Again, I asked my teacher, "Is this not love?"

"Love is something like the clouds that were in the sky before the sun came out," she replied. Then in simpler words than these, which at that time I could not have understood, she explained: "You cannot touch the clouds, you know; but you feel the rain and know how glad the flowers and the thirsty earth are to have it after a hot day. You cannot touch love either; but you feel the sweetness that it pours into everything. Without love you would not be happy or want to play."