| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Rivers to the Sea by Sara Teasdale: Oh are you asleep, or Iying awake, my lover?
Open your dreams to my love and your heart to my words,
I send you my thoughts-the air between us is laden,
My thoughts fly in at your window, a flock of wild birds.
THE YEARS
TO-NIGHT I close my eyes and see
A strange procession passing me--
The years before I saw your face
Go by me with a wistful grace;
They pass, the sensitive shy years,
As one who strives to dance, half blind with tears.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Odyssey by Homer: great monster of the deep to attack me; for Amphitrite breeds
many such, and I know that Neptune is very angry with me."
While he was thus in two minds a wave caught him and took him
with such force against the rocks that he would have been
smashed and torn to pieces if Minerva had not shown him what to
do. He caught hold of the rock with both hands and clung to it
groaning with pain till the wave retired, so he was saved that
time; but presently the wave came on again and carried him back
with it far into the sea--tearing his hands as the suckers of a
polypus are torn when some one plucks it from its bed, and the
stones come up along with it--even so did the rocks tear the
The Odyssey |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Letters from England by Elizabeth Davis Bancroft: and saw the picture he is now painting for the Vice-Chancellor. It
is a sketch of children, a boy driving his two little sisters as
horses. One of the little girls is very like Susie, her size, hair,
and complexion. How I longed to be rich enough to order a copy, but
his pictures cost a fortune. I paid also a visit this week to the
Duchess of Inverness, whom I found in the prettiest, cosiest morning
boudoir looking onto the gardens of the Palace. In short, I do, or
see, every hour, something that if I were a traveller only, I could
make quite a story of.
LETTER: To W.D.B. and A.B.
LONDON, January 1, 1847
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