| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Facino Cane by Honore de Balzac: bowed his head. He had no heart to drink. These details were not
calculated to extinguish my curiosity.
As the three ground out the music of the square dance, I gazed at the
old Venetian noble, thinking thoughts that set a young man's mind
afire at the age of twenty. I saw Venice and the Adriatic; I saw her
ruin in the ruin of the face before me. I walked to and fro in that
city, so beloved of her citizens; I went from the Rialto Bridge, along
the Grand Canal, and from the Riva degli Schiavoni to the Lido,
returning to St. Mark's, that cathedral so unlike all others in its
sublimity. I looked up at the windows of the Casa Doro, each with its
different sculptured ornaments; I saw old palaces rich in marbles, saw
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Perfect Wagnerite: A Commentary on the Niblung's Ring by George Bernard Shaw: sanguine Wagnerite could ever hope to sell. But the result proved
that exactly one person buys a copy on every day in the year,
including Sundays; and so, in the process of the suns, a reprint
has become necessary.
Save a few verbal slips of no importance, I have found nothing to
alter in this edition. As usual, the only protests the book has
elicited are protests, not against the opinions it expresses, but
against the facts it records. There are people who cannot bear to
be told that their hero was associated with a famous Anarchist in
a rebellion; that he was proclaimed as "wanted" by the police;
that he wrote revolutionary pamphlets; and that his picture of
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Children of the Night by Edwin Arlington Robinson: A loveless exile moving with a staff;
And oftentimes there crept into his ears
A sound of alien pity, touched with tears, --
And then (and only then) did Aaron laugh.
The Garden
There is a fenceless garden overgrown
With buds and blossoms and all sorts of leaves;
And once, among the roses and the sheaves,
The Gardener and I were there alone.
He led me to the plot where I had thrown
The fennel of my days on wasted ground,
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