| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Seraphita by Honore de Balzac: betray us! God, who will never abandon us! who crowns our wishes; who
satisfies His creatures with joy--joy unalloyed and infinite! God, who
never wearies but ever smiles! God, who pours into the soul fresh
treasures day by day; who purifies and leaves no bitterness; who is
all harmony, all flame! God, who has placed Himself within our hearts
to blossom there; who hearkens to our prayers; who does not stand
aloof when we are His, but gives His presence absolutely! He who
revives us, magnifies us, and multiplies us in Himself; GOD! Minna, I
love thee because thou mayst be His! I love thee because if thou come
to Him thou wilt be mine."
"Lead me to Him," cried Minna, kneeling down; "take me by the hand; I
Seraphita |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Call of Cthulhu by H. P. Lovecraft: hypnotised with horror.
In a natural glade of the swamp stood
a grassy island of perhaps an acre's extent, clear of trees and
tolerably dry. On this now leaped and twisted a more indescribable
horde of human abnormality than any but a Sime or an Angarola
could paint. Void of clothing, this hybrid spawn were braying,
bellowing, and writhing about a monstrous ring-shaped bonfire;
in the centre of which, revealed by occasional rifts in the curtain
of flame, stood a great granite monolith some eight feet in height;
on top of which, incongruous in its diminutiveness, rested the
noxious carven statuette. From a wide circle of ten scaffolds
Call of Cthulhu |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Maria, or the Wrongs of Woman by Mary Wollstonecraft: sent me five shillings, three and six-pence of which I gave at my
admittance--I know not for what.
"My leg grew quickly better; but I was dismissed before my
cure was completed, because I could not afford to have my linen
washed to appear decently, as the virago of a nurse said, when the
gentlemen (the surgeons) came. I cannot give you an adequate idea
of the wretchedness of an hospital; every thing is left to the care
of people intent on gain. The attendants seem to have lost all
feeling of compassion in the bustling discharge of their offices;
death is so familiar to them, that they are not anxious to ward it
off. Every thing appeared to be conducted for the accommodation
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