| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Bronte Sisters: of the loss of his sweetheart, the loss of his fortune, and the
reaction of the lost night's debauch; whereas, when he had
something in him, if he was not merry himself, he was an unfailing
source of merriment to us. Even Grimsby could chuckle over his odd
sayings: they delighted him far more than my merry jests, or
Hattersley's riotous mirth. But one evening, when we were sitting
over our wine, after one of our club dinners, and all had been
hearty together, - Lowborough giving us mad toasts, and hearing our
wild songs, and bearing a hand in the applause, if he did not help
us to sing them himself, - he suddenly relapsed into silence,
sinking his head on his hand, and never lifting his glass to his
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Allan Quatermain by H. Rider Haggard: evil, and he put aside the tempting of the woman and ceased to
make war on his brother, and lived at peace in the same kraal
with him. And after a time the woman came to him and said, "I
have lost the past, I will be thy wife." And in his heart he
knew that it was a lie and that she thought the evil thing,
yet because of his love did he take her to wife.
'And the very night that they were wed, when the man was plunged
into a deep sleep, did the woman arise and take his axe from
his hand and creep into the hut of his brother and slay him in
his rest. Then did she slink back like a gorged lioness and
place the thong of the red axe back upon his wrist and go her ways.
Allan Quatermain |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Perfect Wagnerite: A Commentary on the Niblung's Ring by George Bernard Shaw: no symphonist. He could not apply the thematic system to his
striking phrases, and so had to cobble them into metric patterns
in the old style; and as he was no "absolute musician" either, he
hardly got his metric patterns beyond mere quadrille tunes, which
were either wholly undistinguished, or else made remarkable by
certain brusqueries which, in the true rococo manner, owed their
singularity to their senselessness. He could produce neither a
thorough music drama nor a charming opera. But with all this, and
worse, Meyerbeer had some genuine dramatic energy, and even
passion; and sometimes rose to the occasion in a manner which,
whilst the imagination of his contemporaries remained on fire
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