| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Waste Land by T. S. Eliot: my own circle, a circle closed on the outside; and, with all its
elements alike, every sphere is opaque to the others which surround
it. . . . In brief, regarded as an existence which appears in a soul,
the whole world for each is peculiar and private to that soul.
424. _V._ Weston, _From Ritual to Romance_; chapter on the Fisher King.
427. _V. Purgatorio_, xxvi. 148.
'Ara vos prec per aquella valor
'que vos guida al som de l'escalina,
'sovegna vos a temps de ma dolor.'
Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina.
428. _V. Pervigilium Veneris_. Cf. Philomela in Parts II and III.
The Waste Land |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Records of a Family of Engineers by Robert Louis Stevenson: seamen upon a return voyage, were extremely happy, and spent
the evening with much innocent mirth and jollity.
In reflecting upon the state of the matters at the Bell
Rock during the working months, when the writer was much with
the artificers, nothing can equal the happy manner in which
these excellent workmen spent their time. They always went
from Arbroath to their arduous task cheering and they
generally returned in the same hearty state. While at the
rock, between the tides, they amused themselves in reading,
fishing, music, playing cards, draughts, etc., or in sporting
with one another. In the workyard at Arbroath the young men
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Nana, Miller's Daughter, Captain Burle, Death of Olivier Becaille by Emile Zola: was extremely pale, and his lips looked pinched--at fat Steiner,
whose face was purple to the verge of apoplexy; at Labordette,
ogling away with the highly astonished air of a horse dealer
admiring a perfectly shaped mare; at Daguenet, whose ears were
blood-red and twitching with enjoyment. Then a sudden idea made him
glance behind, and he marveled at what he saw in the Muffats' box.
Behind the countess, who was white and serious as usual, the count
was sitting straight upright, with mouth agape and face mottled with
red, while close by him, in the shadow, the restless eyes of the
Marquis de Chouard had become catlike phosphorescent, full of golden
sparkles. The house was suffocating; people's very hair grew heavy
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