| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Last War: A World Set Free by H. G. Wells: on from generation to generation until the world was riper for
its practical application. He felt that nobody in all the
thousands of people he passed had really awakened to the fact of
change, they trusted the world for what it was, not to alter too
rapidly, to respect their trusts, their assurances, their habits,
their little accustomed traffics and hard-won positions.
He went into those little gardens beneath the over-hanging,
brightly-lit masses of the Savoy Hotel and the Hotel Cecil. He
sat down on a seat and became aware of the talk of the two people
next to him. It was the talk of a young couple evidently on the
eve of marriage. The man was congratulating himself on having
The Last War: A World Set Free |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Beyond Good and Evil by Friedrich Nietzsche: (that is to say, a dangerous propensity--doubly dangerous among
Germans--for quiet lyricism and intoxication of the feelings),
going constantly apart, timidly withdrawing and retiring, a noble
weakling who revelled in nothing but anonymous joy and sorrow,
from the beginning a sort of girl and NOLI ME TANGERE--this
Schumann was already merely a GERMAN event in music, and no
longer a European event, as Beethoven had been, as in a still
greater degree Mozart had been; with Schumann German music was
threatened with its greatest danger, that of LOSING THE VOICE FOR
THE SOUL OF EUROPE and sinking into a merely national affair.
246. What a torture are books written in German to a reader who
Beyond Good and Evil |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Man in Lower Ten by Mary Roberts Rinehart: They had opened her collar and taken out her hairpins, whatever
good that might do. The stout woman was vigorously rubbing her
wrists, with the idea, no doubt, of working up her pulse! The
unconscious woman was the one for whom I had secured lower eleven
at the station.
I poured a little liquor in a bungling masculine fashion between
her lips as she leaned back, with closed eyes. She choked, coughed,
and rallied somewhat.
"Poor thing," said the stout lady. "As she lies back that way I
could almost think it was my mother; she used to faint so much."
"It would make anybody faint," chimed in another. "Murder and
The Man in Lower Ten |
