| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Little Britain by Washington Irving: the Lambs. It is true that Mrs. Lamb, when she had no
engagements with her quality acquaintance, would give little
humdrum tea-junketings to some of her old cronies, "quite," as
she would say, "in a friendly way;" and it is equally true that
her invitations were always accepted, in spite of all previous
vows to the contrary. Nay, the good ladies would sit and be
delighted with the music of the Miss Lambs, who would
condescend to strum an Irish melody for them on the piano;
and they would listen with wonderful interest to Mrs. Lamb's
anecdotes of Alderman Plunket's family, of Portsokenward,
and the Miss Timberlakes, the rich heiresses of Crutched-Friars;
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood by Howard Pyle: and likewise two fair ladies clad in silks and velvets, all a-riding
on noble steeds. These all made room, staring, as Little John
and the two friars came along the road. To them Little John
bowed humbly. "Give you greetings, lords and ladies," said he.
"But here we go, we three."
Then all laughed, and one of the fair ladies cried out,
"What three meanest thou, merry friend?"
Little John looked over his shoulder, for they had now passed each other,
and he called back, "Big Jack, lean Jack and fat Jack-pudding."
At this the fat Friar gave a groan and seemed as if he were like
to fall from his saddle for shame; the other brother said nothing,
The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Some Reminiscences by Joseph Conrad: service. And I have carried my notion of good service from my
earlier into my later existence. I, who have never sought in the
written word anything else but a form of the Beautiful, I have
carried over that article of creed from the decks of ships to the
more circumscribed space of my desk; and by that act, I suppose,
I have become permanently imperfect in the eyes of the ineffable
company of pure esthetes.
As in political so in literary action a man wins friends for
himself mostly by the passion of his prejudices and by the
consistent narrowness of his outlook. But I have never been able
to love what was not lovable or hate what was not hateful, out of
Some Reminiscences |
