| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from On the Origin of Species by Charles Darwin: common.
Thus, as it seems to me, the manner in which single species and whole
groups of species become extinct, accords well with the theory of natural
selection. We need not marvel at extinction; if we must marvel, let it be
at our presumption in imagining for a moment that we understand the many
complex contingencies, on which the existence of each species depends. If
we forget for an instant, that each species tends to increase inordinately,
and that some check is always in action, yet seldom perceived by us, the
whole economy of nature will be utterly obscured. Whenever we can
precisely say why this species is more abundant in individuals than that;
why this species and not another can be naturalised in a given country;
On the Origin of Species |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Fisherman's Luck by Henry van Dyke: which is pilloried at the head of this chapter. By the way, it
seems that Mr. Chatto had never heard of "The Schuylkill Fishing
Company," which was founded on that romantic stream near
Philadelphia in 1732, nor seen the AUTHENTIC HISTORICAL MEMOIR of
that celebrated and amusing society.
I am sorry for the man who cannot find pleasure in reading the
appendix of THE AMERICAN ANGLER'S BOOK, by Thaddeus Norris; or the
discursive pages of Frank Forester's FISH AND FISHING; or the
introduction and notes of that unexcelled edition of Walton which
was made by the Reverend Doctor George W. Bethune; or SUPERIOR
FISHING and GAME FISH OF THE NORTH, by Mr. Robert B. Roosevelt; or
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Distinguished Provincial at Paris by Honore de Balzac: Lara. They set up to be original, forsooth, and indulge in stanzas
that nobody can understand, and descriptive poetry after the pattern
of the younger men who discovered Delille, and imagine that they are
doing something new. Poets have been swarming like cockchafers for two
years past. I have lost twenty thousand francs through poetry in the
last twelvemonth. You ask Gabusson! There may be immortal poets
somewhere in the world; I know of some that are blooming and rosy, and
have no beards on their chins as yet," he continued, looking at
Lucien; "but in the trade, young man, there are only four poets--
Beranger, Casimir Delavigne, Lamartine, and Victor Hugo; as for
Canalis--he is a poet made by sheer force of writing him up."
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