| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Enoch Arden, &c. by Alfred Tennyson: All-kindled by a still and sacred fire,
That burn'd as on an altar. Philip look'd,
And in their eyes and faces read his doom;
Then, as their faces drew together, groan'd,
And slipt aside, and like a wounded life
Crept down into the hollows of the wood;
There, while the rest were loud in merrymaking,
Had his dark hour unseen, and rose and past
Bearing a lifelong hunger in his heart.
So these were wed, and merrily rang the bells,
And merrily ran the years, seven happy years,
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Melmoth Reconciled by Honore de Balzac: Seine; you might hide in the Catacombs, but would you not see me
there? My voice could be heard through the sound of thunder, my eyes
shine as brightly as the sun, for I am the peer of Lucifer!"
Castanier heard the terrible words, and felt no protest nor
contradiction within himself. He walked side by side with the
Englishman, and had no power to leave him.
"You are mine; you have just committed a crime. I have found at last
the mate whom I have sought. Have you a mind to learn your destiny?
Aha! you came here to see a play, and you shall see a play--nay, two.
Come. Present me to Mme. de la Garde as one of your best friends. Am I
not your last hope of escape?"
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Essays of Francis Bacon by Francis Bacon: watch too long, it is odds he will fall asleep. On the
other side, to be deceived with too long shadows
(as some have been, when the moon was low, and
shone on their enemies' back), and so to shoot off
before the time; or to teach dangers to come on, by
over early buckling towards them; is another ex-
treme. The ripeness, or unripeness, of the occasion
(as we said) must ever be well weighed; and gener-
ally it is good, to commit the beginnings of all
great actions to Argus, with his hundred eyes, and
the ends to Briareus, with his hundred hands; first
Essays of Francis Bacon |
