| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Arrow of Gold by Joseph Conrad: sentiment to which one could hardly give a name, a mysterious
appropriation of one human being by another as if in defiance of
unexpressed things and for an unheard-of satisfaction of an
inconceivable pride. If he had hated her he could not have flung
that enormous fortune more brutally at her head. And his
unrepentant death seemed to lift for a moment the curtain on
something lofty and sinister like an Olympian's caprice.
Dona Rita said to me once with humorous resignation: "You know, it
appears that one must have a name. That's what Henry Allegre's man
of business told me. He was quite impatient with me about it. But
my name, amigo, Henry Allegre had taken from me like all the rest
The Arrow of Gold |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Daughter of Eve by Honore de Balzac: one himself!
"Comedy is no longer there," he said, nodding at the stage; "it is
here, in you."
He took his opera-glass and looked about the theatre to recover
countenance.
"You are not angry with me, I hope?" said the marquise, giving him a
sidelong glance. "I should have had your secret somehow. Let us make
peace. Come and see me; I receive every Wednesday, and I am sure the
dear countess will never miss an evening if I let her know you will be
there. So I shall be the gainer. Sometimes she comes between four and
five o'clock, and I'll be kind and add you to the little set of
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Life of the Spider by J. Henri Fabre: Skilful in the prompt despatch of her prey, the little Crab Spider
is no less well-versed in the nesting art. I find her settled on a
privet in the enclosure. Here, in the heart of a cluster of
flowers, the luxurious creature plaits a little pocket of white
satin, shaped like a wee thimble. It is the receptacle for the
eggs. A round, flat lid, of a felted fabric, closes the mouth.
Above this ceiling rises a dome of stretched threads and faded
flowerets which have fallen from the cluster. This is the
watcher's belvedere, her conning-tower. An opening, which is
always free, gives access to this post.
Here the Spider remains on constant duty. She has thinned greatly
The Life of the Spider |
