| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Dreams by Olive Schreiner: land beyond."
I said, "Has none ever returned?"
God said, "No; once in Heaven always in Heaven."
And God took me over. And when we came to one of the great doors--for
Heaven has more doors than one, and they are all open--the posts rose up so
high on either side I could not see the top, nor indeed if there were any.
And it seemed to me so wide that all Hell could go in through it.
I said to God, "Which is the larger, Heaven or Hell?"
God said, "Hell is as wide, but Heaven is deeper. All Hell could be
engulfed in Heaven, but all Heaven could not be engulfed in Hell."
And we entered. It was a still great land. The mountains rose on every
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Glaucus/The Wonders of the Shore by Charles Kingsley: find less than they expected, and give the subject up in
disappointment. It is good to begin, therefore, if possible, by
playing the part of "jackal" to some practised naturalist, who will
show the tyro where to look, what to look for, and, moreover, what
it is that he has found; often no easy matter to discover. Forty
years ago, during an autumn's work of dead-leaf-searching in the
Devon woods for poor old Dr. Turton, while he was writing his book
on British land-shells, the present writer learnt more of the art
of observing than he would have learnt in three years' desultory
hunting on his own account; and he has often regretted that no
naturalist has established shore-lectures at some watering-place,
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Somebody's Little Girl by Martha Young: all desolate, and when nobody or nothing at all breathed in the
whole great big house, but one little tiny girl and one great big
white cat, with just one black spot on its tail.
The nurse that always had played so nicely with the tiny little girl
was lying with her cheek in her hand over yonder.
The Grandmother who had always talked so much to the tiny little
girl was not talking any more.
The tiny little girl was so sick that she only just could breathe
quickly, just so--and just so--.
If Bessie Bell could remember that, it was only that she remembered
the big white cat like a big soft dream. And she might have
|
