| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Agesilaus by Xenophon: so much as rally, or in the attempt to do so were caught with their
horses' flanks exposed to the enemy's attack. Polycharmus, the
Pharsalian, a commandant of cavalry, did indeed succeed in wheeling,
but was cut down with those about him sword in hand. This was the
signal for a flight so extraordinary that dead and dying lined the
road, and the living were captured wholesale, nor was a halt made
until the pursuers reached Mount Narthacius. Here, midway between Pras
and Narthacius, Agesilaus erected a trophy, and here for the moment he
halted in unfeigned satisfaction at his exploit, since it was from an
antagonist boasting the finest cavalry in the world that he had
wrested victory with a body of cavalry organised by himself.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Rivers to the Sea by Sara Teasdale: Yet they shall say: "It was for Cercolas;
She died because she could not bear her love."
They shall remember how we used to walk
Here on the cliff beneath the oleanders
In the long limpid twilight of the spring,
Looking toward Lemnos, where the amber sky
Was pierced with the faint arrow of a star.
How should they know the wind of a new beauty
Sweeping my soul had winnowed it with song?
I have been glad tho' love should come or go,
Happy as trees that find a wind to sway them,
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Margret Howth: A Story of To-day by Rebecca Harding Davis: they never heard His name: preachers don't go there. But He'll
see to 't. He'll not min' their cursin' o' Him, seein' they
don't know His face, 'n' thinkin' He belongs to th' gentry. I
knew it wud come right wi' me, when times was th' most bad. I
knew"----
The girl's hands were working together, her eyes set, all the
slow years of ruin that had eaten into her brain rising before
her, all the tainted blood in her veins of centuries of slavery
and heathenism struggling to drag her down. But above all, the
Hope rose clear, simple: the trust in the Master: and shone in
her scarred face,-- through her marred senses.
Margret Howth: A Story of To-day |
