| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Salome by Oscar Wilde: peux pas les souffrir . . . Princesse, princesse, ne dis pas de ces
choses.
SALOME. Je baiserai ta bouche, Iokanaan.
LE JEUNE SYRIEN. Ah! [Il se tue et tombe entre Salome et
Iokanaan.]
LE PAGE D'HERODIAS. Le jeune Syrien s'est tue! le jeune capitaine
s'est tue! Il s'est tue, celui qui etait mon ami! Je lui avais
donne une petite boite de parfums, et des boucles d'oreilles faites
en argent, et maintenant il s'est tue! Ah! n'a-t-il pas predit
qu'un malheur allait arriver? . . . Je l'ai predit moi-meme et il ut
arrive. Je savais bien que la lune cherchait un mort, mais je ne
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Eugenie Grandet by Honore de Balzac: --such, for instance, as three or four tubs full of codfish and salt,
a few bundles of sail-cloth, cordage, copper wire hanging from the
joists above, iron hoops for casks ranged along the wall, or a few
pieces of cloth upon the shelves. Enter. A neat girl, glowing with
youth, wearing a white kerchief, her arms red and bare, drops her
knitting and calls her father or her mother, one of whom comes forward
and sells you what you want, phlegmatically, civilly, or arrogantly,
according to his or her individual character, whether it be a matter
of two sous' or twenty thousand francs' worth of merchandise. You may
see a cooper, for instance, sitting in his doorway and twirling his
thumbs as he talks with a neighbor. To all appearance he owns nothing
Eugenie Grandet |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Girl with the Golden Eyes by Honore de Balzac: interested in nothing. No emotion dominating his face, which friction
has rubbed away, it turns gray like the faces of those houses upon
which all kinds of dust and smoke have blown. In effect, the Parisian,
with his indifference on the day for what the morrow will bring forth,
lives like a child, whatever may be his age. He grumbles at
everything, consoles himself for everything, jests at everything,
forgets, desires, and tastes everything, seizes all with passion,
quits all with indifference--his kings, his conquests, his glory, his
idols of bronze or glass--as he throws away his stockings, his hats,
and his fortune. In Paris no sentiment can withstand the drift of
things, and their current compels a struggle in which the passions are
The Girl with the Golden Eyes |
