| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from 'Twixt Land & Sea by Joseph Conrad: At once feeling inclined to defend Jacobus, I observed
philosophically that all this was business, I supposed. But my
absurd mate, muttering broken disjointed sentences, such as: "I
cannot bear! . . . Mark my words! . . ." and so on, flung out of
the cabin. If I hadn't nursed him through that deadly fever I
wouldn't have suffered such manners for a single day.
CHAPTER III
Jacobus having put me in mind of his wealthy brother I concluded I
would pay that business call at once. I had by that time heard a
little more of him. He was a member of the Council, where he made
himself objectionable to the authorities. He exercised a
'Twixt Land & Sea |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Woman of No Importance by Oscar Wilde: touch them, feeling I had no right. You thought I was happier
working amongst the poor. That was my mission, you imagined. It
was not, but where else was I to go? The sick do not ask if the
hand that smooths their pillow is pure, nor the dying care if the
lips that touch their brow have known the kiss of sin. It was you
I thought of all the time; I gave to them the love you did not
need: lavished on them a love that was not theirs . . . And you
thought I spent too much of my time in going to Church, and in
Church duties. But where else could I turn? God's house is the
only house where sinners are made welcome, and you were always in
my heart, Gerald, too much in my heart. For, though day after day,
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Enemies of Books by William Blades: of the book, but worked his way longitudinally, eating great furrows
along the leaves without passing out of the binding; and so furrowed
are these few leaves by long channels that it is difficult to raise
one of them without its falling to pieces.
This is bad enough, but we may be very thankful that in these temperate
climes we have no such enemies as are found in very hot countries,
where a whole library, books, bookshelves, table, chairs, and all,
may be destroyed in one night by a countless army of ants.
Our cousins in the United States, so fortunate in many things,
seem very fortunate in this--their books are not attacked
by the "worm"--at any rate, American writers say so.
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