| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from In Darkest England and The Way Out by General William Booth: have done their best there still remains this great and appalling mass
of human misery on our hands, a perfect quagmire of Human Sludge.
They may ladle out individuals here and there, but to drain the whole
bog is an effort which seems to be beyond the imagination of most of
those who spend their lives in philanthropic work. It is no doubt
better than nothing to take the individual and feed him from day to
day, to bandage up his wounds and heal his diseases; but you may go on
doing that for ever, if you do not do more than that; and the worst of
it is that all authorities agree that if you only do that you will
probably increase the evil with which you are attempting to deal, and
that you had much better let the whole thing alone.
In Darkest England and The Way Out |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Snow Image by Nathaniel Hawthorne: the countries of the globe appeared to join hands for the mere
purpose of adding heap after heap to the mountainous accumulation
of this one man's wealth. The cold regions of the north, almost
within the gloom and shadow of the Arctic Circle, sent him their
tribute in the shape of furs; hot Africa sifted for him the
golden sands of her rivers, and gathered up the ivory tusks of
her great elephants out of the forests; the East came bringing
him the rich shawls, and spices, and teas, and the effulgence of
diamonds, and the gleaming purity of large pearls. The ocean, not
to be behindhand with the earth, yielded up her mighty whales,
that Mr. Gathergold might sell their oil, and make a profit of
The Snow Image |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Lily of the Valley by Honore de Balzac: had no superiority of love over mine. I too am the daughter of a
fallen race, such as men love well.
There came a moment when the struggle was so terrible that I wept
the long nights through; my hair fell off,--you have it! Do you
remember the count's illness? Your nobility of soul far from
raising my soul belittled it. Alas! I dreamed of giving myself to
you some day as the reward of so much heroism; but the folly was a
brief one. I laid it at the feet of God during the mass that day
when you refused to be with me. Jacques' illness and Madeleine's
sufferings seemed to me the warnings of God calling back to Him
His lost sheep.
The Lily of the Valley |
