| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Life of the Spider by J. Henri Fabre: silvery abdomen. Like that of the other, her web is large, upright
and 'signed' with a zigzag ribbon. I place upon it a Praying
Mantis, {18} a well-developed specimen, quite capable of changing
roles, should circumstances permit, and herself making a meal off
her assailant. It is a question no longer of capturing a peaceful
Locust, but a fierce and powerful ogre, who would rip open the
Epeira's paunch with one blow of her harpoons.
Will the Spider dare? Not immediately. Motionless in the centre
of her net, she consults her strength before attacking the
formidable quarry; she waits until the struggling prey has its
claws more thickly entangled. At last, she approaches. The Mantis
The Life of the Spider |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Parmenides by Plato: than anything, will it not be other than other? And the not one is other
than the one, and the one than the not one; therefore one is other than all
others. But the same and the other exclude one another, and therefore the
other can never be in the same; nor can the other be in anything for ever
so short a time, as for that time the other will be in the same. And the
other, if never in the same, cannot be either in the one or in the not one.
And one is not other than not one, either by reason of other or of itself;
and therefore they are not other than one another at all. Neither can the
not one partake or be part of one, for in that case it would be one; nor
can the not one be number, for that also involves one. And therefore, not
being other than the one or related to the one as a whole to parts or parts
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Voice of the City by O. Henry: in her pale blue -- oh -- er -- that very thin stuff
-- in her pale blue Comstockized silk waist and box-
pleated voile skirt, with a soft pink glow on her thin
cheeks and the tiniest bit of rouge powder on her
face, with her handkerchief and room key in her
brown walrus, pebble-grain band-bag.
And Mr. Binkley looked imposing and dashing with
his red face and gray mustache, and his tight dress
coat, that made the back of his neck roll up just
like a successful novelist's.
They drove in a cab to the Cafe Terence, just off
The Voice of the City |
