| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Georgics by Virgil: Even to the verge of tameless winter's showers
With barley: then, too, time it is to hide
Your flax in earth, and poppy, Ceres' joy,
Aye, more than time to bend above the plough,
While earth, yet dry, forbids not, and the clouds
Are buoyant. With the spring comes bean-sowing;
Thee, too, Lucerne, the crumbling furrows then
Receive, and millet's annual care returns,
What time the white bull with his gilded horns
Opens the year, before whose threatening front,
Routed the dog-star sinks. But if it be
Georgics |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Magic of Oz by L. Frank Baum: monkeys into an army, and with that army we will conquer the Oz people."
"The monkeys won't make much of an army," objected Kiki.
"We need a great army, but not a numerous one," responded the Nome.
"You will transform each monkey into a giant man, dressed in a fine
uniform and armed with a sharp sword. There are fifty monkeys over
there and fifty giants would make as big an army as we need."
"What will they do with the swords?" asked Kiki. "Nothing can kill
the Oz people."
"True," said Ruggedo. "The Oz people cannot be killed, but they can
be cut into small pieces, and while every piece will still be alive,
we can scatter the pieces around so that they will be quite helpless.
The Magic of Oz |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Gambara by Honore de Balzac: discordant combinations, far from moving the listener, arouse in him a
feeling analogous to that which he would experience on seeing a rope-
dancer hanging to a thread and swaying between life and death. Never
does a soothing strain come in to mitigate the fatiguing suspense. It
really is as though the composer had had no other object in view than
to produce a baroque effect without troubling himself about musical
truth or unity, or about the capabilities of human voices which are
swamped by this flood of instrumental noise."
"Silence, my friend!" cried Gambara. "I am still under the spell of
that glorious chorus of hell, made still more terrible by the long
trumpets,--a new method of instrumentation. The broken /cadenzas/
Gambara |
