| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Sesame and Lilies by John Ruskin: about the Alps, for use elsewhere; and to I which I add a lecture
given in Ireland on a subject closely connected with that of the
book itself. I am glad that it should be the first of the complete
series, for many reasons; though in now looking over these two
lectures, I am painfully struck by the waste of good work in them.
They cost me much thought, and much strong emotion; but it was
foolish to suppose that I could rouse my audiences in a little while
to any sympathy with the temper into which I had brought myself by
years of thinking over subjects full of pain; while, if I missed my
purpose at the time, it was little to be hoped I could attain it
afterwards; since phrases written for oral delivery become
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Tono Bungay by H. G. Wells: understood. Suddenly I saw her tenderly; remembered not so much
tender or kindly things of her as her crossed wishes and the ways
in which I had thwarted her. Surprisingly I realised that
behind all her hardness and severity she had loved me, that I was
the only thing she had ever loved and that until this moment I
had never loved her. And now she was there and deaf and blind to
me, pitifully defeated in her designs for me, covered from me so
that she could not know....
I dug my nails into the palms of my hands, I set my teeth, but
tears blinded me, sobs would have choked me had speech been
required of me. The old vicar read on, there came a mumbled
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare: is with God, she was too good for me. But as I said, on Lamas
Eue at night shall she be fourteene, that shall she marie,
I remember it well. 'Tis since the Earth-quake now
eleuen yeares, and she was wean'd I neuer shall forget it,
of all the daies of the yeare, vpon that day: for I had then
laid Worme-wood to my Dug sitting in the Sunne vnder
the Douehouse wall, my Lord and you were then at
Mantua, nay I doe beare a braine. But as I said, when it
did tast the Worme-wood on the nipple of my Dugge,
and felt it bitter, pretty foole, to see it teachie, and fall out
with the Dugge, Shake quoth the Doue-house, 'twas no
Romeo and Juliet |
