| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Fisherman's Luck by Henry van Dyke: On the South Shore of Long Island, all things incline to a natural
somnolence. There are no ambitious mountains, no braggart cliffs,
no hasty torrents, no hustling waterfalls in that land,
"In which it seemeth always afternoon."
The salt meadows sleep in the summer sun; the farms and market-
gardens yield a placid harvest to a race of singularly unhurried
tillers of the soil; the low hills rise with gentle slopes, not
caring to get too high in the world, only far enough to catch a
pleasant glimpse of the sea and a breath of fresh air; the very
trees grow leisurely, as if they felt that they had "all the time
there is." And from this dreamy land, close as it lies to the
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Gods of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs: "Hang by your hands and you will alight safely on a level
floor of soft sand."
Very quietly I lowered myself from the inky cell above into the
inky pit below. So utterly dark was it that we could not see
our hands at an inch from our noses. Never, I think, have I known
such complete absence of light as existed in the pits of Issus.
For an instant I hung in mid air. There is a strange sensation
connected with an experience of that nature which is quite
difficult to describe. When the feet tread empty air
and the distance below is shrouded in darkness there is a
feeling akin to panic at the thought of releasing the hold and
The Gods of Mars |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Hidden Masterpiece by Honore de Balzac: iron, anything you please except flesh in shadow. We feel that if the
figures changed position the shady places would not be wiped off, and
would remain dark spots which never could be made luminous. I have
avoided that blunder, though many of our most illustrious painters
have fallen into it. In my work you will see whiteness beneath the
opacity of the broadest shadow. Unlike the crowd of ignoramuses, who
fancy they draw correctly because they can paint one good vanishing
line, I have not dryly outlined my figures, nor brought out
superstitiously minute anatomical details; for, let me tell you, the
human body does not end off with a line. In that respect sculptors get
nearer to the truth of nature than we do. Nature is all curves, each
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