| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Woman and Labour by Olive Schreiner: which peopled Scandinavia, and penetrated to Britain; whose priestesses had
their shrines in German forests, and gave out the oracle for peace or war.
We have in us the blood of a womanhood that was never bought and never
sold; that wore no veil, and had no foot bound; whose realised ideal of
marriage was sexual companionship and an equality in duty and labour; who
stood side by side with the males they loved in peace or war, and whose
children, when they had borne them, sucked manhood from their breasts, and
even through their foetal existence heard a brave heart beat above them.
We are women of a breed whose racial ideal was no Helen of Troy, passed
passively from male hand to male hand, as men pass gold or lead; but that
Brynhild whom Segurd found, clad in helm and byrne, the warrior maid, who
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Iron Puddler by James J. Davis: abroad and they will in the same way build up the country here.
Tribes that have swinish traits were destroyers there and will be
destroyers here. This has been common knowledge so long that it
has become a proverb: "You can't make a silk purse out of a
sow's ear."
Proverbs are the condensed wisdom of the ages. Life has taught
me that the wisdom of the ages is the truth. The Proverbs and the
Ten Commandments answer all our problems. My mother taught them
to me when I was a child in Wales. I have gone out and tasted
life, and found her words true. Starting at forge and furnace in
the roaring mills, facing facts instead of books, I have been
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling: where he lived with his father and mother, and carried him,
kicking and clucking, down a roadside ditch. He found a little
wisp of grass floating there, and clung to it till he lost his
senses. When he revived, he was lying in the hot sun on the
middle of a garden path, very draggled indeed, and a small boy was
saying, "Here's a dead mongoose. Let's have a funeral."
"No," said his mother, "let's take him in and dry him.
Perhaps he isn't really dead."
They took him into the house, and a big man picked him up
between his finger and thumb and said he was not dead but half
choked. So they wrapped him in cotton wool, and warmed him over a
The Jungle Book |
