| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates by Howard Pyle: time. The other book was written in Spanish, and was evidently
the log book of some captured prize.
It was then, sitting there upon the sand, the good old gentleman
reading in his high, cracking voice, that they first learned from
the bloody records in those two books who it was who had been
lying inside the Cape all this time, and that it was the famous
Captain Kidd. Every now and then the reverend gentleman would
stop to exclaim, "Oh, the bloody wretch!" or, "Oh, the desperate,
cruel villains!" and then would go on reading again a scrap here
and a scrap there.
And all the while Tom Chist sat and listened, every now and then
Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Essays of Travel by Robert Louis Stevenson: the sea. The very margins of waste ground, as they trench a little
farther on the beaten way, or recede again to the shelter of the
hedge, have something of the same free delicacy of line - of the same
swing and wilfulness. You might think for a whole summer's day (and
not have thought it any nearer an end by evening) what concourse and
succession of circumstances has produced the least of these
deflections; and it is, perhaps, just in this that we should look for
the secret of their interest. A foot-path across a meadow - in all
its human waywardness and unaccountability, in all the GRATA
PROTERVITAS of its varying direction - will always be more to us than
a railroad well engineered through a difficult country. No reasoned
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Essays & Lectures by Oscar Wilde: to do aught but accept his teaching, knowing that we cannot smite
the bitter lips of Leopardi into laughter or burden with our
discontent Goethe's serene calm. But for warrant of its truth such
message must have the flame of eloquence in the lips that speak it,
splendour and glory in the vision that is its witness, being
justified by one thing only - the flawless beauty and perfect form
of its expression: this indeed being the social idea, being the
meaning of joy in art.
Not laughter where none should laugh, nor the calling of peace
where there is no peace; not in painting the subject ever, but the
pictorial charm only, the wonder of its colour, the satisfying
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