| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Enemies of Books by William Blades: pamphlets and books, the price of which is offered to the Pope as
`Deniers de St. Pierre.' Of course, this Society is very little known
among Protestants, and many have denied even its existence; but I have been
fortunate enough to obtain a printed circular issued by one of the Bishops
containing statistics of the astounding mass of paper thus collected.
producing in one district alone the sum of L1,200 in three months. I need
not tell you that this work is strongly promoted by the Catholic clergy.
You can have no idea of the difficulty we now have in procuring certain
books published but 30, 40, or 50 years ago of an ephemeral character.
Historical and theological books are very rare; novels and poetry of that
period are absolutely not to be found; medical and law books are more common.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Golden Threshold by Sarojini Naidu: wherever she was, to be alone.
Through that soul I seemed to touch and take hold upon the East.
And first there was the wisdom of the East. I have never known
any one who seemed to exist on such "large draughts of
intellectual day" as this child of seventeen, to whom one could
tell all one's personal troubles and agitations, as to a wise old
woman. In the East, maturity comes early; and this child had
already lived through all a woman's life. But there was
something else, something hardly personal, something which
belonged to a consciousness older than the Christian, which I
realised, wondered at, and admired, in her passionate
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Amazing Interlude by Mary Roberts Rinehart: chopping at his cotton and making a great show of cheerfulness before
Sara Lee.
But with Jean sometimes he showed the black depression beneath. He
would never be a man again. He was done for. He gained strength so
slowly that he believed he was not gaining at all. He was not happy,
and the unhappy mend slowly.
After the time he had asked Jean to take away Harvey's photograph he did
not recur to the subject, but he did not need to. Jean knew, perhaps
even better than Henri himself, that the boy was recklessly, hopelessly,
not quite rationally in love with the American girl.
Also Henri was fretting about his work. Sometimes at night, following
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