| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions by Edwin A. Abbot: and fresh ones introduced. So great is the terror with which even now
our Aristocracy looks back to the far-distant days of the agitation
for the Universal Colour Bill.
Section 11. Concerning our Priests
It is high time that I should pass from these brief and discursive
notes about things in Flatland to the central event of this book,
my initiation into the mysteries of Space. THAT is my subject;
all that has gone before is merely preface.
For this reason I must omit many matters of which the explanation
would not, I flatter myself, be without interest for my Readers:
as for example, our method of propelling and stopping ourselves,
Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Fables by Robert Louis Stevenson: dead leaves, and the wind whirled them widdershins, and the sand
lice hopped between.
"It is true," said the King's daughter of Duntrine, "you are the
comer, and you have power upon the hour. Come with me to my stone
house."
So they went by the sea margin, and the man piped the song of the
morrow, and the leaves followed behind them as they went.
Then they sat down together; and the sea beat on the terrace, and
the gulls cried about the towers, and the wind crooned in the
chimneys of the house. Nine years they sat, and every year when it
fell autumn, the man said, "This is the hour, and I have power in
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The New Machiavelli by H. G. Wells: Arnold Shoesmith."
I wasn't looking now at Margaret any more, but I heard the rustle of
her movement as she turned on me.
"It's all right," I said, clinging to my explanation. "We're doing
nothing shabby. He knows. He will. It's all as right--as things
can be now. We're not cheating any one, Margaret. We're doing
things straight--now. Of course, you know. . . . We shall--we
shall have to make sacrifices. Give things up pretty completely.
Very completely. . . . We shall have not to see each other for a
time, you know. Perhaps not a long time. Two or three years. Or
write--or just any of that sort of thing ever--"
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