| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from McTeague by Frank Norris: THAT. Oh, my Lord, here he comes now! Ain't that him?
Listen."
Zerkow was coming up the stairs, calling for Maria.
"Don't you let him get me, will you, Mister Schouler?"
gasped Maria.
"I'll break him in two," shouted Marcus, livid with rage.
"Think I'm afraid of his knife?"
"I know where you are," cried Zerkow, on the landing
outside. "You're in Schouler's room. What are you doing in
Schouler's room at this time of night? Come outa there; you
oughta be ashamed. I'll do for you yet, my girl. Come outa
McTeague |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Market-Place by Harold Frederic: a detective through that door there--following into the
Board Room with his implacable scent the clue of blood.
Thorpe's fancy pictured this detective as a momentarily
actual presence--tall, lean, cold-eyed, mysteriously calm
and fatally wise, the omniscient terror of the magazine
short-stories.
He turned faint and sick under a spasm of fright.
The menace of enquiry became something more than a threat:
he felt it, like the grip of a constable upon his arm.
Everything would be mercilessly unravelled. The telegram
of the idiot Kervick would bring the police down upon
The Market-Place |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Thus Spake Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche: Verily, it shall not on that account become heavier to me! And not from
you, ye present-day men, shall my great weariness arise.--
Ah, whither shall I now ascend with my longing! From all mountains do I
look out for fatherlands and motherlands.
But a home have I found nowhere: unsettled am I in all cities, and
decamping at all gates.
Alien to me, and a mockery, are the present-day men, to whom of late my
heart impelled me; and exiled am I from fatherlands and motherlands.
Thus do I love only my CHILDREN'S LAND, the undiscovered in the remotest
sea: for it do I bid my sails search and search.
Unto my children will I make amends for being the child of my fathers: and
Thus Spake Zarathustra |
