| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Kwaidan by Lafcadio Hearn: "And this season, O Butterfly, is indeed the season of your bright
prosperity: so comely you now are that in the whole world there is nothing
more comely. For that reason all other insects admire and envy you;-- there
is not among them even one that does not envy you. Nor do insects alone
regard you with envy: men also both envy and admire you. Soshu of China, in
a dream, assumed your shape;-- Sakoku of Japan, after dying, took your
form, and therein made ghostly apparition. Nor is the envy that you inspire
shared only by insects and mankind: even things without soul change their
form into yours;-- witness the barley-grass, which turns into a butterfly.
[13]
"And therefore you are lifted up with pride, and think to yourself: 'In all
Kwaidan |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Wyoming by William MacLeod Raine: Ned Bannister would be reading something like that," he
concluded, a flicker of sneering contempt crossing his face.
"Perhaps y'u'll learn some time to attend to your own business,"
said the man on the couch quietly.
Hatred gleamed in the narrowed slits from which the soul of the
other cousin looked down at him. "I'm a philanthropist, and my
business is attending to other people's. They raise sheep, for
instance, and I market them."
The girl hastily interrupted. She had not feared for herself, but
she knew fear for the indomitable man she had nursed back to
life. "Won't you sit down, Mr. Bannister? Since you don't approve
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Ebb-Tide by Stevenson & Osbourne: shall come some day and read my memor querela. Ha, he shall
have Latin too!' And he added: terque quaterque beati Queis
ante ora patrum.
He turned again to his uneasy pacing, but now with an
irrational and supporting sense of duty done. He had dug his
grave that morning; now he had carved his epitaph; the folds of
the toga were composed, why should he delay the insignificant
trifle that remained to do? He paused and looked long in the
face of the sleeping Huish, drinking disenchantment and distaste
of life. He nauseated himself with that vile countenance. Could
the thing continue? What bound him now? Had he no rights? -
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