| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Aeroplanes and Dirigibles of War by Frederick A. Talbot: proportion to the depth to which the submarine can descend in
safety. It is a matter of current knowledge that a submarine
cannot sink to a depth of more than 250 feet: an aerial vessel is
able to ascend to 5,000, 8,000, or even 10,000 feet above the
earth, and the higher the altitude it attains the greater is its
degree of safety. The limit of ascension is governed merely by
the physical capacities of those who are responsible for the
aerial vessel's movement.
It is for this reason that the defensive measures which are
practised in the waters of the earth are inapplicable to the
atmosphere. Movement by, or in, water is governed by the depth
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Moby Dick by Herman Melville: accuracy.
At some old gable-roofed country houses you will see brass whales
hung by the tail for knockers to the road-side door. When the porter
is sleepy, the anvil-headed whale would be best. But these knocking
whales are seldom remarkable as faithful essays. On the spires of
some old-fashioned churches you will see sheet-iron whales placed
there for weather-cocks; but they are so elevated, and besides that
are to all intents and purposes so labelled with "HANDS OFF!" you
cannot examine them closely enough to decide upon their merit.
In bony, ribby regions of the earth, where at the base of high broken
cliffs masses of rock lie strewn in fantastic groupings upon the
Moby Dick |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Venus and Adonis by William Shakespeare: A lily prison'd in a gaol of snow,
Or ivory in an alabaster band;
So white a friend engirts so white a foe: 364
This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling,
Show'd like two silver doves that sit a-billing.
Once more the engine of her thoughts began:
'O fairest mover on this mortal round, 368
Would thou wert as I am, and I a man,
My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my wound;
For one sweet look thy help I would assure thee,
Though nothing but my body's bane would cure thee.'
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