This is forcibly expressed in a brief but admirable study of antipathy by Sophie Bryant. Though the antipathy she describes is of a peculiarly subtle kind, it is plain that the same sort of analysis may be applied to any form of imaginative hostility. “A is drawn out toward B to feel what he feels. If the new feeling harmonizes, distinctly or obscurely, with the whole system of A’s consciousness—or the part then identified with his will—there follows that joyful expansion of self beyond self which is sympathy. But if not—if the new feeling is out of keeping with the system of A’s will—tends to upset the system, and brings discord into it—there follows the reaction of the whole against the hostile part which, transferred to its cause in B, pushes out B’s state, as the antithesis of self, yet threatening self, and offensive.” Antipathy, she says, “is full of horrid thrill.” “The peculiar horror of the antipathy springs from the unwilling response to the state abhorred. We feel ourselves actually like the other person, selfishly vain, cruelly masterful, artfully affected, insincere, ungenial, and so on.”... “There is some affinity between those who antipathize.”[66] And with similar meaning Thoreau remarks that “you cannot receive a shock unless you have an electric affinity for that which shocks you,” and that “He who receives an injury is to some extent an accomplice of the wrong-doer.”[67] Thus the cause of hostility is imaginative or sympathetic, an inimical idea attributed to another mind. We cannot feel this way toward that which is totally unlike us, because the totally unlike is unimaginable, has no interest for us. This, like all social feeling, requires a union of likeness with difference.