| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Phaedrus by Plato: discourses, and the rhetorical skill or want of skill which was shown in
them--these are the questions which we sought to determine, and they
brought us to this point. And I think that we are now pretty well informed
about the nature of art and its opposite.
PHAEDRUS: Yes, I think with you; but I wish that you would repeat what was
said.
SOCRATES: Until a man knows the truth of the several particulars of which
he is writing or speaking, and is able to define them as they are, and
having defined them again to divide them until they can be no longer
divided, and until in like manner he is able to discern the nature of the
soul, and discover the different modes of discourse which are adapted to
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Mountains by Stewart Edward White: he throws, and the method of the throwing; by the
shape of hat he wears; by his twist of speech; even
by the very manner of his riding. Your California
"vaquero" from the Coast Ranges is as unlike as
possible to your Texas cowman, and both differ from
the Wyoming or South Dakota article. I should be
puzzled to define exactly the habitat of the "typical"
cowboy. No matter where you go, you will find
your individual acquaintance varying from the type
in respect to some of the minor details.
Certain characteristics run through the whole tribe,
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Sons and Lovers by D. H. Lawrence: began to take life, plants with great leaves became distinct.
They came through a pass in the big, cold sandhills on to the beach.
The long waste of foreshore lay moaning under the dawn and the sea;
the ocean was a flat dark strip with a white edge. Over the gloomy
sea the sky grew red. Quickly the fire spread among the clouds
and scattered them. Crimson burned to orange, orange to dull gold,
and in a golden glitter the sun came up, dribbling fierily over the
waves in little splashes, as if someone had gone along and the light
had spilled from her pail as she walked.
The breakers ran down the shore in long, hoarse strokes.
Tiny seagulls, like specks of spray, wheeled above the line of surf.
Sons and Lovers |
