| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from An Open Letter on Translating by Dr. Martin Luther: not allow the papists to judge for their ears continue to be too
long and their hee-haws too weak for them to be critical of my
translating. I know quite well how much skill, hard work,
understanding and intelligence is needed for a good translation.
They know it less than even the miller's donkey for they have
never tried it.
It is said, "The one who builds along the pathway has many
masters." It is like this with me. Those who have not ever been
able to speak correctly (to say nothing of translating) have all
at once become my masters and I their pupil. If I were to have
asked them how to translate the first two words of Matthew "Liber
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Marie by H. Rider Haggard: and smoked on.
"Allemachte! Allan," puffed the Vrouw Prinsloo, who was breathless with
her walk up the hill, "so here you are! As you did not come back, I
thought you had run away and left us, like that stinkcat Pereira."
"Yes, Tante (aunt), here I am," I answered gloomily, "and I wish to
heaven that I was somewhere else."
Just then Dingaan, having settled his great bulk upon the stool and
recovered his breath, called to the lad Halstead, who was with him, and
said:
"O Tho-maas, ask your brother, Macumazahn, if he is ready to try to
shoot the vultures. If not, as I wish to be fair, I will give him a
Marie |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Happy Prince and Other Tales by Oscar Wilde: died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that
I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and
though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot chose but weep."
"What! is he not solid gold?" said the Swallow to himself. He was
too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.
"Far away," continued the statue in a low musical voice, "far away
in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is
open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face
is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the
needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion-
flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen's maids-of-
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