| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Profits of Religion by Upton Sinclair: which operate in human societies. I blame the prophets and
priests and healers for their fall from idealism; but I blame
still more the competitive wage-system, which presents them with
the alternative to swindle or to starve.
For, you see, the prophet has to have food. He has frequently got
along with almost none, and with only a rag for clothing; in
Palestine and India, where the climate is warm, a sincere faith
has been possible for short periods. But the modern prophet who
expects to influence the minds of men has to have books and
newspapers; he will find a telephone and a typewriter and
postage-stamps hardly to be dispensed with, also in Europe and
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from From London to Land's End by Daniel Defoe: came to Abbotsbury, a town anciently famous for a great monastery,
and now eminent for nothing but its ruins.
From hence we went on to Bridport, a pretty large corporation town
on the sea-shore, though without a harbour. Here we saw boats all
the way on the shore, fishing for mackerel, which they take in the
easiest manner imaginable; for they fix one end of the net to a
pole set deep into the sand, then, the net being in a boat, they
row right out into the water some length, then turn and row
parallel with the shore, veering out the net all the while, till
they have let go all the net, except the line at the end, and then
the boat rows on shore, when the men, hauling the net to the shore
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from To-morrow by Joseph Conrad: shall be all right. Don't you be impatient, my dear.
One day more."
In the other house old Carvil, wallowing regally
in his arm-chair, with a globe lamp burning by his
side on the table, yelled for her, in a fiendish voice:
"Bessie! Bessie! you Bessie!"
She heard him at last, and, as if overcome by
fate, began to totter silently back toward her stuffy
little inferno of a cottage. It had no lofty portal,
no terrific inscription of forfeited hopes--she did
not understand wherein she had sinned.
To-morrow |
