| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Tragedy of Pudd'nhead Wilson by Mark Twain: from the theater in the heavy downpour, and closed his umbrella
and let himself in; but when he would have shut the door,
he found that there was another person entering--doubtless another lodger;
this person closed the door and tramped upstairs behind Tom.
Tom found his door in the dark, and entered it, and turned
up the gas. When he faced about, lightly whistling, he saw the
back of a man. The man was closing and locking his door from him.
His whistle faded out and he felt uneasy. The man turned around,
a wreck of shabby old clothes, sodden with rain and all a-drip,
and showed a black face under an old slouch hat. Tom was frightened.
He tried to order the man out, but the words refused to come,
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Soul of Man by Oscar Wilde: extremely distasteful to the public; and yet the vitality and
progress of art depend in a large measure on the continual
extension of subject-matter. The public dislike novelty because
they are afraid of it. It represents to them a mode of
Individualism, an assertion on the part of the artist that he
selects his own subject, and treats it as he chooses. The public
are quite right in their attitude. Art is Individualism, and
Individualism is a disturbing and disintegrating force. Therein
lies its immense value. For what it seeks to disturb is monotony
of type, slavery of custom, tyranny of habit, and the reduction of
man to the level of a machine. In Art, the public accept what has
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Lone Star Ranger by Zane Grey: I--I--we may never see each other again--after to-day. I'll
never forget you. I'll pray for you, and I'll never give up
trying to--to do something. Don't despair. It's never too late.
It was my hope that kept me alive--out there at Bland's--before
you came. I was only a poor weak girl. But if I could hope--so
can you. Stay away from men. Be a lone wolf. Fight for your
life. Stick out your exile--and maybe--some day--"
Then she lost her voice. Duane clasped her hand and with
feeling as deep as hers promised to remember her words. In her
despair for him she had spoken wisdom--pointed out the only
course.
The Lone Star Ranger |
