| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from St. Ives by Robert Louis Stevenson: the pair farewell, set off alone upon my southward way.
'Mr. St. Ivy,' was the last word of Sim, 'I was never muckle ta'en
up in Englishry; but I think that I really ought to say that ye
seem to me to have the makings of quite a decent lad.'
CHAPTER XI - THE GREAT NORTH ROAD
IT chanced that as I went down the hill these last words of my
friend the drover echoed not unfruitfully in my head. I had never
told these men the least particulars as to my race or fortune, as
it was a part, and the best part, of their civility to ask no
questions: yet they had dubbed me without hesitation English. Some
strangeness in the accent they had doubtless thus explained. And
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Long Odds by H. Rider Haggard: had been lying in the shelter of the pan. It must, by the way, have
been a reit bok of a peculiarly confiding nature to lay itself down with
the lion, like the lamb of prophesy, but I suppose the reeds were thick,
and that it kept a long way off.
"Well, I let the reit bok go, and it went like the wind, and kept my
eyes fixed upon the reeds. The fire was burning like a furnace now; the
flames crackling and roaring as they bit into the reeds, sending spouts
of fire twenty feet and more into the air, and making the hot air dance
above in a way that was perfectly dazzling. But the reeds were still
half green, and created an enormous quantity of smoke, which came
rolling towards me like a curtain, lying very low on account of the
Long Odds |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Herbert West: Reanimator by H. P. Lovecraft: of investigations on the transmission of germ diseases. He ordered
them burnt as soon as possible in the capacious fireplace. To
the police we both declared ignorance of our late companion’s
identity. He was, West nervously said, a congenial stranger whom
we had met at some downtown bar of uncertain location. We had
all been rather jovial, and West and I did not wish to have our
pugnacious companion hunted down.
That same night saw the beginning
of the second Arkham horror -- the horror that to me eclipsed
the plague itself. Christchurch Cemetery was the scene of a terrible
killing; a watchman having been clawed to death in a manner not
Herbert West: Reanimator |
