| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians by Martin Luther: purposes of grace and of faith. Unbelievers are ignorant of this happy
knowledge. When Cain was first shut up in the prison of the Law he felt
no pang at the fratricide he had committed. He thought he could pass it off
as an incident with a shrug of the shoulder. "Am I my brother's keeper?"
he answered God flippantly. But when he heard the ominous words,
"What hast thou done? the voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me
from the ground," Cain began to feel his imprisonment. Did he know how
to get out of prison? No. He failed to call the Gospel to his aid. He said:
"My punishment is greater than I can bear." He could only think of the
prison. He forgot that he was brought face to face with his crime so that he
should hurry to God for mercy and for pardon. Cain remained in the
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Massimilla Doni by Honore de Balzac: such a distance that this salute might have secured her the man's
hatred, if he could have ignored the charm of her eloquence and
beauty.
Thus at the end of the opera, Emilio and Massimilla were alone, and
holding hands they listened together to the duet that finishes /Il
Barbiere/.
"There is nothing but music to express love," said the Duchess, moved
by that song as of two rapturous nightingales.
A tear twinkled in Emilio's eye; Massimilla, sublime in such beauty as
beams in Raphael's Saint-Cecilia, pressed his hand, their knees
touched, there was, as it seemed, the blossom of a kiss on her lips.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe: got her basket on her head again; but before she went out, she
looked at the quadroon girt, who still stood playing with her
ear-drops.
"Ye think ye're mighty fine with them ar, a frolickin' and
a tossin' your head, and a lookin' down on everybody. Well, never
mind,--you may live to be a poor, old, cut-up crittur, like me.
Hope to the Lord ye will, I do; then see if ye won't
drink,--drink,--drink,--yerself into torment; and sarve ye right,
too--ugh!" and, with a malignant howl, the woman left the room.
"Disgusting old beast!" said Adolph, who was getting his
master's shaving-water. "If I was her master, I'd cut her up worse
Uncle Tom's Cabin |
