| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Turn of the Screw by Henry James: a consummation for which it seemed blasphemous not to thank God.
There was, alas, a difficulty about that: I would have thanked
him with all my soul had I not had in a proportionate measure this
conviction of the secret of my pupils.
How can I retrace today the strange steps of my obsession?
There were times of our being together when I would have been ready
to swear that, literally, in my presence, but with my direct sense
of it closed, they had visitors who were known and were welcome.
Then it was that, had I not been deterred by the very chance that
such an injury might prove greater than the injury to be averted,
my exultation would have broken out. "They're here, they're here,
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Songs of Travel by Robert Louis Stevenson: She drank of Weary Well,
She moved beyond my lingering look,
Ah, whither none can tell!
She came, she went. In other lands,
Perchance in fairer skies,
Her hands shall cling with other hands,
Her eyes to other eyes.
She vanished. In the sounding town,
Will she remember too?
Will she recall the eyes of brown
As I recall the blue?
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift: intended to print was absolutely true to the best of his
knowledge; for then the world would no longer be deceived, as it
usually is, while some writers, to make their works pass the
better upon the public, impose the grossest falsities on the
unwary reader. I have perused several books of travels with
great delight in my younger days; but having since gone over most
parts of the globe, and been able to contradict many fabulous
accounts from my own observation, it has given me a great disgust
against this part of reading, and some indignation to see the
credulity of mankind so impudently abused. Therefore, since my
acquaintance were pleased to think my poor endeavours might not
Gulliver's Travels |
