| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from De Profundis by Oscar Wilde: that the ultimate survival of the Greek chorus, lost elsewhere to
art, is to be found in the servitor answering the priest at Mass.
Yet the whole life of Christ - so entirely may sorrow and beauty be
made one in their meaning and manifestation - is really an idyll,
though it ends with the veil of the temple being rent, and the
darkness coming over the face of the earth, and the stone rolled to
the door of the sepulchre. One always thinks of him as a young
bridegroom with his companions, as indeed he somewhere describes
himself; as a shepherd straying through a valley with his sheep in
search of green meadow or cool stream; as a singer trying to build
out of the music the walls of the City of God; or as a lover for
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Chouans by Honore de Balzac: Verneuil waited with anxiety till the light brought by the new-comer
lighted the whole cave, where she could partly distinguish a formless
but living mass which was trying to reach a part of the wall, with
violent and repeated jerks, something like those of a carp lying out
of water on a shore.
A small pine torch threw its blue and hazy light into the cave. In
spite of the gloomy poetic effects which Mademoiselle de Verneuil's
imagination cast about this vaulted chamber, which was echoing to the
sounds of a pitiful prayer, she was obliged to admit that the place
was nothing more than an underground kitchen, evidently long
abandoned. When the formless mass was distinguishable it proved to be
The Chouans |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Moon-Face and Other Stories by Jack London: on my pasture," he mumbled sleepily that night as he pulled the blankets up to
his chin.
Suddenly he sat upright. "Bill!" he called sharply. "Now, listen to me, Bill;
d'ye hear! It's up to you, to-morrow mornin', to mosey round an' see what you
can see. Understand? Tomorrow morning, an' don't you forget it!"
He yawned and glanced across at his side-hill. "Good night, Mr. Pocket," he
called.
In the morning he stole a march on the sun, for he had finished breakfast when
its first rays caught him, and he was climbing the wall of the canyon where it
crumbled away and gave footing. From the outlook at the top he found himself
in the midst of loneliness. As far as he could see, chain after chain of
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