97. Softness
Everything of matter is a rhythm or interaction of space and matter. (Space is that which does not impede motion; matter is that which does.) When a thing is soft, the mind feels that should another thing touch it, or press it, there will be more of a likelihood of the first thing’s going towards space, or making for space, than its remaining in opposition to space.
For example, if one digs one’s finger into a marshmallow, the marshmallow as matter yields. Space comes to be where the matter of marshmallow was. Space is the “softest” thing in the world; for that which is soft tends not to impede motion; and space, as such, does not impede motion at all. Water is very soft; mist is softer.
When a soft thing has pressure with it, there is likewise a feeling of curve. The marshmallow pressed by a finger, would also make for curves; but the marshmallow itself, as soft, is related to curve. The idea of square and softness, though these two can exist together, is an idea that must be willed; for the first readiness of the mind is to associate the square with hardness.
Softness, therefore, has expanded beyond its material meaning to signify yielding, easy; for it is the soft in matter which yields. So we have a “soft job,” “a soft answer,” “a soft sentence,” and so on. Further, since harshness is against softness, if the way of writing of a person avoids consonants, or avoids difficult or painful matters, that writing is “soft.”
Softness has to do with continuity, for a soft thing can change within, and still be one—as for example, a rubber ball, wool, chewing gum. But a hard thing changed, is thought of as discontinuous, for a hard thing we think of when changed much, as broken.