| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Glaucus/The Wonders of the Shore by Charles Kingsley: What if the water fails, after all?
Then Mr. Gosse's artificial sea-water will form a perfect
substitute. You may buy the requisite salts (for there are more
salts than "salt" in sea-water) from any chemist to whom Mr. Gosse
has entrusted his discovery, and, according to his directions, make
sea-water for yourself
One more hint before we part. If, after all, you are not going
down to the sea-side this year, and have no opportunities of
testing "the wonders of the shore," you may still study Natural
History in your own drawing-room, by looking a little into "the
wonders of the pond."
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson by Robert Louis Stevenson: SCENE beggar belief; but you will observe they are stage-plays -
things AD HOC; not great Olympian debauches of the heart and fancy;
hence more perfect, and not so great. Then I come, after great
wanderings, to Carmosine and to Fantasio; to one part of La
Derniere Aldini (which, by the by, we might dramatise in a week),
to the notes that Meredith has found, Evan and the postillion, Evan
and Rose, Harry in Germany. And to me these things are the good;
beauty, touched with sex and laughter; beauty with God's earth for
the background. Tragedy does not seem to me to come off; and when
it does, it does so by the heroic illusion; the anti-masque has
been omitted; laughter, which attends on all our steps in life, and
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Odyssey by Homer: company, the hardiest of their hands and the chief in
might. And looking into the swift ship to find my men, even
then I marked their feet and hands as they were lifted on
high, and they cried aloud in their agony, and called me by
my name for that last time of all. Even as when as fisher
on some headland lets down with a long rod his baits for a
snare to the little fishes below, casting into the deep the
horn of an ox of the homestead, and as he catches each
flings it writhing ashore, so writhing were they borne
upward to the cliff. And there she devoured them shrieking
in her gates, they stretching forth their hands to me in
The Odyssey |
