| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from An Ideal Husband by Oscar Wilde: began talking about success in modern life as something that one
could reduce to an absolutely definite science. With that
wonderfully fascinating quiet voice of his he expounded to us the
most terrible of all philosophies, the philosophy of power, preached
to us the most marvellous of all gospels, the gospel of gold. I
think he saw the effect he had produced on me, for some days
afterwards he wrote and asked me to come and see him. He was living
then in Park Lane, in the house Lord Woolcomb has now. I remember so
well how, with a strange smile on his pale, curved lips, he led me
through his wonderful picture gallery, showed me his tapestries, his
enamels, his jewels, his carved ivories, made me wonder at the
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Criminal Sociology by Enrico Ferri: become an end in itself.
Again, the cellular system is ineffectual because the very
isolation which was its original object is incapable of
realisation. Prisoners find a thousand means of carrying on
communication with each other, during their walks, or by writing
on the leaves of books lent to them to read, or by knocking on
their walls according to a conventional alphabet, or by writing in
the sand, or by using the drains as telephonic receivers, as was
done in the cellular prisons of Mazas, Milan, &c. Plain proofs of
this may be found in Lombroso's ``Les Palimpsestes des Prisons.''
``The public, and even well-informed persons, honestly believe
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Paz by Honore de Balzac: immaculate image in his heart, proposed to Malaga, the queen of the
carnival dances, to spend an evening at the Musard ball; because he
knew the countess, disguised to the teeth, intended to come there with
two friends, all three accompanied by their husbands, and look on at
the curious spectacle of one of these crowded balls.
On Shrove Tuesday, of the year 1838, at four o'clock in the morning,
the countess, wrapped in a black domino and sitting on the lower step
of the platform in the Babylonian hall, where Valentino has since then
given his concerts, beheld Thaddeus, as Robert Macaire, threading the
galop with Malaga in the dress of a savage, her head garnished with
plumes like the horse of a hearse, and bounding through the crowd like
|
