| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Father Damien by Robert Louis Stevenson: correction; thanks to you, the public has them in their bluntness.
They are almost a list of the man's faults, for it is rather these
that I was seeking: with his virtues, with the heroic profile of
his life, I and the world were already sufficiently acquainted. I
was besides a little suspicious of Catholic testimony; in no ill
sense, but merely because Damien's admirers and disciples were the
least likely to be critical. I know you will be more suspicious
still; and the facts set down above were one and all collected from
the lips of Protestants who had opposed the father in his life.
Yet I am strangely deceived, or they build up the image of a man,
with all his weakness, essentially heroic, and alive with rugged
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Misalliance by George Bernard Shaw: Read your Darwin, my boy. Read your Weismann. _[He goes to the
sideboard for a drink of lemonade]._
MRS TARLETON. For shame, John! Tell him to read his Bible.
TARLETON. _[manipulating the syphon]_ Whats the use of telling
children to read the Bible when you know they wont. I was kept away
from the Bible for forty years by being told to read it when I was
young. Then I picked it up one evening in a hotel in Sunderland when
I had left all my papers in the train; and I found it wasnt half bad.
_[He drinks, and puts down the glass with a smack of enjoyment]._
Better than most halfpenny papers, anyhow, if only you could make
people believe it. _[He sits down by the writing-table, near his
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Men of Iron by Howard Pyle: Smithfield, leaving behind him six young knights of his household
to act as escort to the young champion. Then at last the order to
horse was given; the great gate swung open, and out they rode,
clattering and jingling, the sunlight gleaming and flaming and
flashing upon their polished armor. They drew rein to the right,
and so rode in a little cloud of dust along the Strand Street
towards London town, with the breeze blowing merrily, and the
sunlight shining as sweetly and blithesomely as though they were
riding to a wedding rather than to a grim and dreadful ordeal
that meant either victory or death.
CHAPTER 32
Men of Iron |
