| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from 1492 by Mary Johntson: It was Christmas Eve, and we had our vespers, and we
thought of the day at home in Castile and in Italy. Dusk
drew down. Behind us was the deep, secure water of
St. Thomas, his harbor. The Admiral had us sound and
the lead showed no great depth, whereupon we stood a little
out to avoid shoal or bar.
For some nights the Admiral had been wakeful, suffering,
as Juan Lepe knew, with that gout which at times troubled
him like a very demon. But this night he slept. Juan de la
Cosa set the watch. The helmsman was Sancho Ruiz than
whom none was better, save only that he would take a risk
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Modest Proposal by Jonathan Swift: art.
I am assured by our merchants, that a boy or a girl before twelve
years old, is no saleable commodity, and even when they come to
this age, they will not yield above three pounds, or three pounds
and half a crown at most, on the exchange; which cannot turn to
account either to the parents or kingdom, the charge of
nutriments and rags having been at least four times that value.
I shall now therefore humbly propose my own thoughts, which I
hope will not be liable to the least objection.
I have been assured by a very knowing American of my acquaintance
in London, that a young healthy child well nursed, is, at a year
A Modest Proposal |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Dunwich Horror by H. P. Lovecraft: night. Early risers on the tenth noticed a peculiar stench in
the air. About seven o'clock Luther Brown, the hired boy at George
Corey's, between Cold Spring Glen and the village, rushed frenziedly
back from his morning trip to Ten-Acre Meadow with the cows. He
was almost convulsed with fright as he stumbled into the kitchen;
and in the yard outside the no less frightened herd were pawing
and lowing pitifully, having followed the boy back in the panic
they shared with him. Between gasps Luther tried to stammer out
his tale to Mrs Corey.
'Up thar in the rud beyont the glen,
Mis' Corey - they's suthin' ben thar! It smells like thunder,
The Dunwich Horror |
