|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Man in Lower Ten by Mary Roberts Rinehart:
lapses, when my book lay at my elbow, and I smoked and thought.
Mrs. Klopton closed the house with ostentatious caution, about
eleven, and hung around waiting to enlarge on the outrageousness
of the police search. I did not encourage her.
"One would think," she concluded pompously, one foot in the hall,
"that you were something you oughtn't to be, Mr. Lawrence. They
acted as though you had committed a crime."
"I'm not sure that I didn't, Mrs. Klopton," I said wearily.
"Somebody did, the general verdict seems to point my way."
She stared at me in speechless indignation. Then she flounced out.
She came back once to say that the paper predicted cooler weather,
The Man in Lower Ten
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Thus Spake Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche:
For the creator himself to be the new-born child, he must also be willing
to be the child-bearer, and endure the pangs of the child-bearer.
Verily, through a hundred souls went I my way, and through a hundred
cradles and birth-throes. Many a farewell have I taken; I know the heart-
breaking last hours.
But so willeth it my creating Will, my fate. Or, to tell you it more
candidly: just such a fate--willeth my Will.
All FEELING suffereth in me, and is in prison: but my WILLING ever cometh
to me as mine emancipator and comforter.
Willing emancipateth: that is the true doctrine of will and emancipation--
so teacheth you Zarathustra.
Thus Spake Zarathustra
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Sesame and Lilies by John Ruskin:
same time the herd of less excellent women in frivolity, by leading
them to think that they must either be good up to the black
standard, or cannot be good for anything. Wear a costume, by all
means, if you like; but let it be a cheerful and becoming one; and
be in your heart a Sister of Charity always, without either veiled
or voluble declaration of it.
As I pause, before ending my preface--thinking of one or two more
points that are difficult to write of--I find a letter in 'The
Times,' from a French lady, which says all I want so beautifully,
that I will print it just as it stands:-
SIR,--It is often said that one example is worth many sermons.