| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Fisherman's Luck by Henry van Dyke: murmuring in one corner, and that you must not go into the garden
because Louis and Lizzie are there, and that you cannot have a sail
on the lake because Richard and Rebecca have taken the boat.
Of course, unless you happen to be a selfish old curmudgeon, you
rejoice, by sympathy, in the happiness of these estimable young
people. But you fail to see why it should cover so much ground.
Why should they not pool their interests, and all go out in the
boat, or all walk in the garden, or all sit on the verandah? Then
there would be room for somebody else about the place.
In old times you could rely upon lovers for retirement. But
nowadays their role seems to be a bold ostentation of their
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Sesame and Lilies by John Ruskin: felicity, and raised into perpetual companionship with a King,
compared to whom the kings of the earth are as grass-hoppers, and
the nations as the dust of His feet? Are you sure of this? or, if
not sure, do any of us so much as care to make it sure? and, if not,
how can anything that we do be right--how can anything we think be
wise? what honour can there be in the arts that amuse us, or what
profit in the possessions that please?
Is not this a mystery of life?
But farther, you may, perhaps, think it a beneficent ordinance for
the generality of men that they do not, with earnestness or anxiety,
dwell on such questions of the future because the business of the
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Frankenstein by Mary Shelley: that render them to me almost as imposing and interesting as truth.
Our conversations are not always confined to his own history and misfortunes.
On every point of general literature he displays unbounded knowledge
and a quick and piercing apprehension. His eloquence is forcible and touching;
nor can I hear him, when he relates a pathetic incident or endeavours to move
the passions of pity or love, without tears. What a glorious creature must
he have been in the days of his prosperity, when he is thus noble and godlike
in ruin! He seems to feel his own worth and the greatness of his fall.
"When younger," said he, "I believed myself destined for some
great enterprise. My feelings are profound, but I possessed
a coolness of judgment that fitted me for illustrious achievements.
Frankenstein |
