One both anticipates and fears the kind of swooning, almost erotic pleasure that a good passage in a good book gives; as something nameless happens. i don't know what it is that happens: is it the pleasure of mind meeting mind, untramelled by flesh? of the inchoation of our experience suddenly given shape and form? why yes, we cry: yes, yes, that is how it is!

context readers guess that "inchoation" in this passage describes experiences that are and select all that apply.

universal
incoherent
insincere
preliminary