| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Seraphita by Honore de Balzac: unorganized forces, the ones being finite and the others infinite. The
man who can conceive the Infinite by his intelligence cannot deal with
it in its entirety; if he could, he would be God. Your Numeration,
applying to things finite and not to the Infinite, is therefore true
in relation to the details which you are able to perceive, and false
in relation to the Whole, which you are unable to perceive. Though
Nature is like unto herself in the organizing force or in her
principles which are infinite, she is not so in her finite effects.
Thus you will never find in Nature two objects identically alike. In
the Natural Order two and two never make four; to do so, four exactly
similar units must be had, and you know how impossible it is to find
Seraphita |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Tono Bungay by H. G. Wells: her eye all on Marion, perplexed into self-forgetfulness, it
wasn't somehow funny. She was, I do believe, giving my marriage
more thought than I had done, she was concerned beyond measure at
my black rage and Marion's blindness, she was looking with eyes
that knew what loving is--for love.
In the vestry she turned away as we signed, and I verily believe
she was crying, though to this day I can't say why she should
have cried, and she was near crying too when she squeezed my hand
at parting--and she never said a word or looked at me, but just
squeezed my hand....
If I had not been so grim in spirit, I think I should have found
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from De Profundis by Oscar Wilde: we reappear. To revisit the glimpses of the moon is not for us.
Our very children are taken away. Those lovely links with humanity
are broken. We are doomed to be solitary, while our sons still
live. We are denied the one thing that might heal us and keep us,
that might bring balm to the bruised heart, and peace to the soul
in pain. . . .
I must say to myself that I ruined myself, and that nobody great or
small can be ruined except by his own hand. I am quite ready to
say so. I am trying to say so, though they may not think it at the
present moment. This pitiless indictment I bring without pity
against myself. Terrible as was what the world did to me, what I
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