| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A House of Pomegranates by Oscar Wilde: young Fisherman said to his Soul, 'Is this the city in which she
dances of whom thou didst speak to me?'
And his Soul answered him, 'It may be that it is in this city,
therefore let us enter in.'
So they entered in and passed through the streets, but nowhere
could the young Fisherman find the river or the inn that stood by
its side. And the people of the city looked curiously at him, and
he grew afraid and said to his Soul, 'Let us go hence, for she who
dances with white feet is not here.'
But his Soul answered, 'Nay, but let us tarry, for the night is
dark and there will be robbers on the way.'
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Alexandria and her Schools by Charles Kingsley: justifier and the harmoniser of all philosophic truth which man has ever
discovered, or will discover; which Philo saw partially, and yet
clearly; which the Hebrew sages perceived far more deeply, because more
humanly and practically; which Saint Paul the Platonist, and yet the
Apostle, raised to its highest power, when he declared that the
immutable and self-existent Being, for whom the Greek sages sought, and
did not altogether seek in vain, has gathered together all things both
in heaven and in earth in one inspiring and creating Logos, who is both
God and Man?
Be this as it may, we find that from the time of Philo, the deepest
thought of the heathen world began to flow in a theologic channel. All
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Voice of the City by O. Henry: a Circe who turns her wooers into mewing Toms and
Tabbies who linger about the doorsteps of her abode,
unmindful of the flying brickbats and boot-jacks of
the critics. Some of us creep back to our native vil-
lages to the skim-milk of "I told you so"; but most
of us prefer to remain in the cold courtyard of our
mistress's temple, snatching the scraps that fall from
her divine table d'hote. But some of us grow weary
at last of the fruitless service. And then there are
two fates open to us. We can get a job driving a
grocer's wagon, or we can get swallowed up in the
The Voice of the City |
