| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Goodness of St. Rocque and Other Stories by Alice Dunbar: day and next day, only to see re-enacted the same piteous
scene,--the woman pleading to be made a wife ere death hushed
Tony's blasphemies, the man chuckling in pain-racked glee at the
prospect of her bereaved misery. Not all the prayers of Father
Leblanc nor the wailings of Mrs. Murphy could alter the
determination of the will beneath the shock of hair; he gloated
in his physical weakness at the tenacious grasp on his mentality.
"Tony," she wailed on the last day, her voice rising to a shriek
in its eagerness, "tell them I'm your wife; it'll be the same.
Only say it, Tony, before you die!"
He raised his head, and turned stiff eyes and gibbering mouth on
The Goodness of St. Rocque and Other Stories |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Alcibiades II by Platonic Imitator: SOCRATES: You certainly would when you saw each of them rivalling the
other and esteeming that of the greatest importance in the state,
'Wherein he himself most excelled.' (Euripides, Antiope.)
--I mean that which was best in any art, while he was entirely ignorant of
what was best for himself and for the state, because, as I think, he trusts
to opinion which is devoid of intelligence. In such a case should we not
be right if we said that the state would be full of anarchy and
lawlessness?
ALCIBIADES: Decidedly.
SOCRATES: But ought we not then, think you, either to fancy that we know
or really to know, what we confidently propose to do or say?
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Dreams & Dust by Don Marquis: worships his own desire;
And mixed with his trust there is terror, and
mixed with his madness is ruth,
And every man grovels in error, yet every man
glimpses a truth.
For all of the creeds are false, and all of the creeds
are true;
And low at the shrines where my brothers bow,
there will I bow, too;
For no form of a god, and no fashion
Man has made in his desperate passion
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