| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Gods of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs: her grandfather, took command of two mighty expeditions,
and a month ago sailed away to explore every inch of
ground in the northern hemisphere of Barsoom. For two
weeks no word has come back from them, but rumours were
rife that they had met with a terrible disaster and
that all were dead.
"About this time Zat Arras renewed his importunities for
her hand in marriage. He has been for ever after her since
you disappeared. She hated him and feared him, but with
both her father and grandfather gone, Zat Arras was very
powerful, for he is still Jed of Zodanga, to which position,
The Gods of Mars |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Amy Foster by Joseph Conrad: where true gold can be found lying ready and to be
got for the trouble of the picking up. How then,
he asked, could he ever return home with empty
hands when there had been sold a cow, two ponies,
and a bit of land to pay for his going? His eyes
would fill with tears, and, averting them from the
immense shimmer of the sea, he would throw him-
self face down on the grass. But sometimes, cock-
ing his hat with a little conquering air, he would
defy my wisdom. He had found his bit of true
gold. That was Amy Foster's heart; which was 'a
Amy Foster |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Soul of Man by Oscar Wilde: its contemplation and the egotism that mars him - the egotism of
his ignorance, or the egotism of his information. This point about
the drama is hardly, I think, sufficiently recognised. I can quite
understand that were 'Macbeth' produced for the first time before a
modern London audience, many of the people present would strongly
and vigorously object to the introduction of the witches in the
first act, with their grotesque phrases and their ridiculous words.
But when the play is over one realises that the laughter of the
witches in 'Macbeth' is as terrible as the laughter of madness in
'Lear,' more terrible than the laughter of Iago in the tragedy of
the Moor. No spectator of art needs a more perfect mood of
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