| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Criminal Sociology by Enrico Ferri: allowance, and prepares for himself a thousand privations. Miners
and workmen at dangerous trades refuse to take warning by the
sight of comrades whom they have seen dying or repeatedly attacked
by disease. M. Despine related that, during the cholera of 1866,
at Bilbao, there were some who set up an imitation of the disease
in order to obtain charitable relief, though in several cases
death ensued. M. Fayet, in an essay on the statistics of accused
persons in France, extending over twenty years, remarked that
specific and proportionately greater criminality was displayed by
notaries and bailiffs, who knew better than any one else the
punishments fixed by law. And in the statistics of capital
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Caesar's Commentaries in Latin by Julius Caesar: renovarunt.
Pugnatum est diu atque acriter, cum Sotiates superioribus victoriis
freti in sua virtute totius Aquitaniae salutem positam putarent, nostri
autem quid sine imperatore et sine reliquis legionibus adulescentulo duce
efficere possent perspici cuperent; tandem confecti vulneribus hostes
terga verterunt. Quorum magno numero interfecto Crassus ex itinere
oppidum Sotiatium oppugnare coepit. Quibus fortiter resistentibus vineas
turresque egit. Illi alias eruptione temptata, alias cuniculis ad aggerem
vineasque actis (cuius rei sunt longe peritissimi Aquitani, propterea quod
multis locis apud eos aerariae secturaeque sunt), ubi diligentia nostrorum
nihil his rebus profici posse intellexerunt, legatos ad Crassum mittunt
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf: twopence half-penny; the children loved it; it did her husband good to be
three thousand, or if she must be accurate, three hundred miles from his
libraries and his lectures and his disciples; and there was room for
visitors. Mats, camp beds, crazy ghosts of chairs and tables whose London
life of service was done--they did well enough here; and a photograph or
two, and books. Books, she thought, grew of themselves. She never had
time to read them. Alas! even the books that had been given her and
inscribed by the hand of the poet himself: "For her whose wishes must be
obeyed" ... "The happier Helen of our days" ... disgraceful to say, she
had never read them. And Croom on the Mind and Bates on the Savage
Customs of Polynesia ("My dear, stand still," she said)--neither of those
To the Lighthouse |
