| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Village Rector by Honore de Balzac: the inequalities of strength, she allows for the disproportion of
burdens. If she finds us unequal in heart, in body, in mind, in
aptitude, and value, she makes us all equal by repentance. Hence
equality is no longer a vain word, for we can be, we are, all equal
through feeling. From the formless fetichism of savages to the
graceful inventions of Greece, or the profound and metaphysical
doctrines of Egypt and India, whether taught in cheerful or in
terrifying worship, there is a conviction in the soul of man--that of
his fall, that of his sin--from which comes everywhere the idea of
sacrifice and redemption. The death of the Redeemer of the human race
is an image of what we have to do for ourselves,--redeem our faults,
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Chance by Joseph Conrad: that his eyes are not yellow?"
Powell, not interested in the colour of Mr. Smith's eyes, made a
vague gesture. Yellow or not yellow, it was all one to him.
The mate murmured to himself. "No. He can't know. No! No more
than a baby. It would take an older head."
"I don't even understand what you mean," observed Mr. Powell coldly.
"And even the best head would be puzzled by such devil-work," the
mate continued, muttering. "Well, I have heard tell of women doing
for a man in one way or another when they got him fairly ashore.
But to bring their devilry to sea and fasten on such a man! . . .
It's something I can't understand. But I can watch. Let them look
Chance |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Hidden Masterpiece by Honore de Balzac: will. You are my conscience, my glory. Come home; I shall be happy,
perhaps, if you, yourself--"
"Have I a self when you speak thus to me? Oh, no! I am but a child.
Come," she continued, seeming to make a violent effort. "If our love
perishes, if I put into my heart a long regret, thy fame shall be the
guerdon of my obedience to thy will. Let us enter. I may yet live
again,--a memory on thy palette."
Opening the door of the house the two lovers met Porbus coming out.
Astonished at the beauty of the young girl, whose eyes were still wet
with tears, he caught her all trembling by the hand and led her to the
old master.
|
