| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Essays of Travel by Robert Louis Stevenson: out in himself, but must at my age be still quite lively and active.
Then he told me that he had a little raft afloat on the river above
the dam which he was going to lend me, in order that I might be able
to look back, in after years, upon having done so, and get great
pleasure from the recollection. Now, I have a friend of my own who
will forgo present enjoyments and suffer much present inconvenience
for the sake of manufacturing 'a reminiscence' for himself; but there
was something singularly refined in this pleasure that the hatmaker
found in making reminiscences for others; surely no more simple or
unselfish luxury can be imagined. After he had unmoored his little
embarkation, and seen me safely shoved off into midstream, he ran
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Intentions by Oscar Wilde: basis of life - the energy of life, as Aristotle would call it - is
simply the desire for expression, and Art is always presenting
various forms through which this expression can be attained. Life
seizes on them and uses them, even if they be to her own hurt.
Young men have committed suicide because Rolla did so, have died by
their own hand because by his own hand Werther died. Think of what
we owe to the imitation of Christ, of what we owe to the imitation
of Caesar.
CYRIL. The theory is certainly a very curious one, but to make it
complete you must show that Nature, no less than Life, is an
imitation of Art. Are you prepared to prove that?
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Death of the Lion by Henry James: there's every prospect of its being widely imitated." Our host at
this moment joined us again, and Mr. Morrow remarked invitingly
that he should be happy to make a note of any observation the
movement in question, the bid for success under a lady's name,
might suggest to Mr. Paraday. But the poor man, without catching
the allusion, excused himself, pleading that, though greatly
honoured by his visitor's interest, he suddenly felt unwell and
should have to take leave of him - have to go and lie down and keep
quiet. His young friend might be trusted to answer for him, but he
hoped Mr. Morrow didn't expect great things even of his young
friend. His young friend, at this moment, looked at Neil Paraday
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