| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Beyond Good and Evil by Friedrich Nietzsche: even in presence of the brown sunsets of the desert, whose soul
is akin to the palm-tree, and can be at home and can roam with
big, beautiful, lonely beasts of prey ... I could imagine a music
of which the rarest charm would be that it knew nothing more of
good and evil; only that here and there perhaps some sailor's
home-sickness, some golden shadows and tender weaknesses might
sweep lightly over it; an art which, from the far distance, would
see the colours of a sinking and almost incomprehensible MORAL
world fleeing towards it, and would be hospitable enough and
profound enough to receive such belated fugitives.
256. Owing to the morbid estrangement which the nationality-craze
Beyond Good and Evil |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table by Oliver Wendell Holmes: royal delight? Now if a man can only be allowed to stand on a
dais, or raised platform, and look down on his neighbor who is
exerting his talent for him, oh, it is all right! - first-rate
performance! - and all the rest of the fine phrases. But if all at
once the performer asks the gentleman to come upon the floor, and,
stepping upon the platform, begins to talk down at him, - ah, that
wasn't in the programme!
I have never forgotten what happened when Sydney Smith - who, as
everybody knows, was an exceedingly sensible man, and a gentleman,
every inch of him - ventured to preach a sermon on the Duties of
Royalty. The "Quarterly," "so savage and tartarly," came down upon
The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from She Stoops to Conquer by Oliver Goldsmith: is not to live by his learning. I don't think a boy wants much
learning to spend fifteen hundred a year.
HARDCASTLE. Learning, quotha! a mere composition of tricks and
mischief.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Humour, my dear; nothing but humour. Come, Mr.
Hardcastle, you must allow the boy a little humour.
HARDCASTLE. I'd sooner allow him a horse-pond. If burning the
footmen's shoes, frightening the maids, and worrying the kittens be
humour, he has it. It was but yesterday he fastened my wig to the back
of my chair, and when I went to make a bow, I popt my bald head in Mrs.
Frizzle's face.
She Stoops to Conquer |
