| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from 'Twixt Land & Sea by Joseph Conrad: larger ones, a mile or two long, showing the outlines of ridges,
ribs of grey rock under the dank mantle of matted leafage. Unknown
to trade, to travel, almost to geography, the manner of life they
harbour is an unsolved secret. There must be villages -
settlements of fishermen at least - on the largest of them, and
some communication with the world is probably kept up by native
craft. But all that forenoon, as we headed for them, fanned along
by the faintest of breezes, I saw no sign of man or canoe in the
field of the telescope I kept on pointing at the scattered group.
At noon I gave no orders for a change of course, and the mate's
whiskers became much concerned and seemed to be offering themselves
'Twixt Land & Sea |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Adam Bede by George Eliot: emotions and under the inspiration of her own simple faith.
But now she had entered into a new current of feeling. Her manner
became less calm, her utterance more rapid and agitated, as she
tried to bring home to the people their guilt their wilful
darkness, their state of disobedience to God--as she dwelt on the
hatefulness of sin, the Divine holiness, and the sufferings of the
Saviour, by which a way had been opened for their salvation. At
last it seemed as if, in her yearning desire to reclaim the lost
sheep, she could not be satisfied by addressing her hearers as a
body. She appealed first to one and then to another, beseeching
them with tears to turn to God while there was yet time; painting
Adam Bede |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Poems by Oscar Wilde: Seemed the thin voice of jealousy, - O hence
Thou huntress deadlier than Artemis!
Go seek some other quarry! for of thy too perilous bliss.
My lips have drunk enough, - no more, no more, -
Though Love himself should turn his gilded prow
Back to the troubled waters of this shore
Where I am wrecked and stranded, even now
The chariot wheels of passion sweep too near,
Hence! Hence! I pass unto a life more barren, more austere.
More barren - ay, those arms will never lean
Down through the trellised vines and draw my soul
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