| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Several Works by Edgar Allan Poe: were its windows. The second chamber was purple in its ornaments
and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third was
green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was
furnished and lighted with orange--the fifth with white--the sixth
with violet. The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black
velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the
walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material
and hue. But in this chamber only, the colour of the windows
failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes here were
scarlet--a deep blood colour. Now in no one of the seven
apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusion of
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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: soon as it was known by themselves; but as that cannot be expected
from them, and the examiners cannot be supposed, as above, to go
into their houses to visit and search, all the good of shutting up houses
will be defeated, and few houses will be shut up in time, except those
of the poor, who cannot conceal it, and of some people who will be
discovered by the terror and consternation which the things put them into.
I got myself discharged of the dangerous office I was in as soon as I
could get another admitted, whom I had obtained for a little money to
accept of it; and so, instead of serving the two months, which was
directed, I was not above three weeks in it; and a great while too,
considering it was in the month of August, at which time the
A Journal of the Plague Year |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Great God Pan by Arthur Machen: careful to keep a long way in the background, and yet not lose
sight of the woman. She took me down to the Strand, and then
to Westminster, and then up St. James's Street, and along
Piccadilly. I felt queerish when I saw her turn up Ashley
Street; the thought that Mrs. Herbert was Mrs. Beaumont came
into my mind, but it seemed too impossible to be true. I
waited at the corner, keeping my eye on her all the time, and I
took particular care to note the house at which she stopped.
It was the house with the gay curtains, the home of flowers, the
house out of which Crashaw came the night he hanged himself in
his garden. I was just going away with my discovery, when I
The Great God Pan |
