| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Call of Cthulhu by H. P. Lovecraft: understand the repeated promises of silence which he was offered
in exchange for an admission of membership in some widespread
mystical or paganly religious body. When Professor Angell became
convinced that the sculptor was indeed ignorant of any cult or
system of cryptic lore, he besieged his visitor with demands for
future reports of dreams. This bore regular fruit, for after the
first interview the manuscript records daily calls of the young
man, during which he related startling fragments of nocturnal
imaginery whose burden was always some terrible Cyclopean vista
of dark and dripping stone, with a subterrene voice or intelligence
shouting monotonously in enigmatical sense-impacts uninscribable
Call of Cthulhu |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Market-Place by Harold Frederic: worth their while. But they all wanted too much money
for me--and for a while I was at my wits' ends. At last
I got a fellow--he's not behaved so badly, all things
considered--who had some sporting blood in his veins,
and he was willing to do the whole thing for 5,000 pounds,
if I could pay 1,500 pounds down, and the rest in shares.
But that was just what I couldn't do, you see, so finally
he took 1,000 pounds down and 5,000 in shares--and as I
say he's done it tolerably well. There was one editor
that I had to square personally--that is to say, 100 pounds
cash--it had to be in sovereigns, for notes could be
The Market-Place |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy: June--and you would never say 'tis the land of wolves and
perpetual snow!"
"Of course not--it stands to reason," said Buzzford. "'Tis
barren ignorance that leads to such words. He's a simple
home-spun man, that never was fit for good company--think
nothing of him, sir."
"And do ye carry your flock bed, and your quilt, and your
crock, and your bit of chiney? or do ye go in bare bones, as
I may say?" inquired Christopher Coney.
"I've sent on my luggage--though it isn't much; for the
voyage is long." Donald's eyes dropped into a remote gaze as
The Mayor of Casterbridge |
