| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Koran: thou knowest naught. Verily, I. admonish thee that thou shouldst not
be of the ignorant.' He said, 'My Lord, verily, I seek refuge in
Thee from asking Thee for aught of which I know nothing; and, unless
Thou dost forgive me and have mercy on, me, I shall be of those who
lose.'
It was said, 'O Noah! descend in safety from us, and blessings
upon thee and upon (some) nations of those who are with thee; but
(some) nations we will allow to enjoy prosperity and then there
shall touch, them, from us grievous woe.' These are, stories of the
unseen which we reveal to thee; thou didst not know them, thou nor thy
people before this. Be patient, then; verily, the issue is for those
The Koran |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Rape of Lucrece by William Shakespeare: With soft-slow tongue, true mark of modesty,
And sorts a sad look to her lady's sorrow,
(For why her face wore sorrow's livery,)
But durst not ask of her audaciously
Why her two suns were cloud-eclipsed so,
Nor why her fair cheeks over-wash'd with woe.
But as the earth doth weep, the sun being set,
Each flower moisten'd like a melting eye;
Even so the maid with swelling drops 'gan wet
Her circled eyne, enforc'd by sympathy
Of those fair suns, set in her mistress' sky,
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Life in the Iron-Mills by Rebecca Davis: unworthy. Who blames her? Something is lost in the passage of
every soul from one eternity to the other,--something pure and
beautiful, which might have been and was not: a hope, a talent,
a love, over which the soul mourns, like Esau deprived of his
birthright. What blame to the meek Quaker, if she took her lost
hope to make the hills of heaven more fair?
Nothing remains to tell that the poor Welsh puddler once lived,
but this figure of the mill-woman cut in korl. I have it here
in a corner of my library. I keep it hid behind a curtain,--it
is such a rough, ungainly thing. Yet there are about it
touches, grand sweeps of outline, that show a master's hand.
Life in the Iron-Mills |
