| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Warlord of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs: in the exuberance of his great love was dear old Woola--
frantic mad with happiness.
Long and loud was the cheering that burst forth at sight of us;
deafening was the din of ringing metal as the veteran warriors
of every Martian clime clashed their blades together on high in
token of success and victory, but as I passed among the throng
of saluting nobles and warriors, jeds and jeddaks, my heart
still was heavy, for there were two faces missing that I would have
given much to have seen there--Thuvan Dihn and Thuvia of Ptarth
were not to be found in the great chamber.
The Warlord of Mars |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Journal of the Plague Year by Daniel Defoe: that village' (pointing at Poplar), 'where half of them are not dead
already, and the rest sick.' Then he pointing to one house, 'There they
are all dead', said he, 'and the house stands open; nobody dares go into
it. A poor thief', says he, 'ventured in to steal something, but he paid
dear for his theft, for he was carried to the churchyard too last night.'
Then he pointed to several other houses. 'There', says he. 'they are all
dead, the man and his wife, and five children. There', says he, 'they
are shut up; you see a watchman at the door'; and so of other houses.
'Why,' says I, 'what do you here all alone? ' 'Why,' says he, 'I am a
poor, desolate man; it has pleased God I am not yet visited, though my
family is, and one of my children dead.' 'How do you mean, then,' said
A Journal of the Plague Year |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Waste Land by T. S. Eliot: and the Merchant appear later; also the 'crowds of people', and
Death by Water is executed in Part IV. The Man with Three Staves
(an authentic member of the Tarot pack) I associate, quite arbitrarily,
with the Fisher King himself.
60. Cf. Baudelaire:
Fourmillante cité, cité pleine de rêves,
Où le spectre en plein jour raccroche le passant.
63. Cf. INFERNO, iii. 55-7.
si lunga tratta
di gente, ch'io non avrei mai creduto
che morte tanta n'avesse disfatta.
The Waste Land |
