| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Within the Tides by Joseph Conrad: arrival a very pretty bungalow on the hill, ready for her and the
little girl they had. Very soon he got for her a two-wheeled trap
and a Burmah pony, and she used to drive down of an evening to pick
up Davidson, on the quay. When Davidson, beaming, got into the
trap, it would become very full all at once.
"We used to admire Mrs. Davidson from a distance. It was a girlish
head out of a keepsake. From a distance. We had not many
opportunities for a closer view, because she did not care to give
them to us. We would have been glad to drop in at the Davidson
bungalow, but we were made to feel somehow that we were not very
welcome there. Not that she ever said anything ungracious. She
Within the Tides |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Damnation of Theron Ware by Harold Frederic: must have heard.
Then he smiled again, and laid the matter aside, with a
parting admission that it had been undoubtedly picturesque
and impressive, and that it had been a valuable experience
to him to see it. At least the Irish, with all their faults,
must have a poetic strain, or they would not have clung
so tenaciously to those curious and ancient forms.
He recalled having heard somewhere, or read, it might be,
that they were a people much given to songs and music.
And the young lady, that very handsome and friendly
Miss Madden, had told him that she was a musician!
The Damnation of Theron Ware |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Poems by Oscar Wilde: Till thou wert wearied of Idolatry.
Ah! hadst thou liked me less and loved me more,
Through all those summer days of joy and rain,
I had not now been sorrow's heritor,
Or stood a lackey in the House of Pain.
Yet, though remorse, youth's white-faced seneschal,
Tread on my heels with all his retinue,
I am most glad I loved thee - think of all
The suns that go to make one speedwell blue!
Poem: Silentium Amoris
As often-times the too resplendent sun
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