| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Stories From the Old Attic by Robert Harris: "For the proverb says, 'In security lies happiness.'" So his
majesty instructed his generals to go forth and conquer the
territories around him. After a preposterous quantity of noise,
smoke, blood, guts, and dying, the king found himself in possession
of jillions of acres of farms and towns and houses and cottages and
the souls of all those who lived therein. He now ruled over the
land as far as he--or even someone with good eyesight--could see in
every direction from the top of his highest tower. At any time of
day or night the king could call for the relief of a distressed
friend or the beheading of an enemy. He had absolute say over the
life or death, the happiness or suffering, of millions of people of
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from To-morrow by Joseph Conrad: knows where, to-morrow. They told no one of
their finds, and there has never been a Gambucino
well off. It was not for the gold they cared; it was
the wandering about looking for it in the stony
country that got into them and wouldn't let them
rest; so that no woman yet born could hold a Gam-
bucino for more than a week. That's what the
song says. It's all about a pretty girl that tried
hard to keep hold of a Gambucino lover, so that he
should bring her lots of gold. No fear! Off he
went, and she never saw him again."
To-morrow |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Intentions by Oscar Wilde: until one sees its beauty. Then, and then only, does it come into
existence. At present, people see fogs, not because there are
fogs, but because poets and painters have taught them the
mysterious loveliness of such effects. There may have been fogs
for centuries in London. I dare say there were. But no one saw
them, and so we do not know anything about them. They did not
exist till Art had invented them. Now, it must be admitted, fogs
are carried to excess. They have become the mere mannerism of a
clique, and the exaggerated realism of their method gives dull
people bronchitis. Where the cultured catch an effect, the
uncultured catch cold. And so, let us be humane, and invite Art to
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