| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Intentions by Oscar Wilde: night, and in secret buried. Legend though it may be, yet the
story is none the less valuable as showing us the attitude of the
Renaissance towards the antique world. Archaeology to them was not
a mere science for the antiquarian; it was a means by which they
could touch the dry dust of antiquity into the very breath and
beauty of life, and fill with the new wine of romanticism forms
that else had been old and outworn. From the pulpit of Niccola
Pisano down to Mantegna's 'Triumph of Caesar,' and the service
Cellini designed for King Francis, the influence of this spirit can
be traced; nor was it confined merely to the immobile arts - the
arts of arrested movement - but its influence was to be seen also
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Kwaidan by Lafcadio Hearn: to incur unnecessary fatigue or danger. Probably they have no great desire
to go out. Around them revolves the whole activity of the race: all its
intelligence and toil and thrift are directed solely toward the well-being
of these Mothers and of their children.
But last and least of the race rank the husbands of these Mothers,-- the
necessary Evils,-- the males. They appear only at a particular season, as I
have already observed; and their lives are very short. Some cannot even
boast of noble descent, though destined to royal wedlock; for they are not
royal offspring, but virgin-born,-- parthenogenetic children,-- and, for
that reason especially, inferior beings, the chance results of some
mysterious atavism. But of any sort of males the commonwealth tolerates but
Kwaidan |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Foolish Virgin by Thomas Dixon: crouched beside the wall, waited and listened. The
night wind stirred the dead leaves at her feet. She
lifted her head with a sudden start, laughed softly and
bent again to listen.
CHAPTER XX
TRAPPED
The sobbing in the little room was the only sound that
came from one of the grimmest battle-fields from which
the soul of a woman ever emerged alive.
To the first rush of cowardly tears Mary had
yielded utterly. She had fallen across the high-puffed
|
