| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Moby Dick by Herman Melville: vessel had been spoken which on the very day preceding had actually
encountered Moby Dick;--and now that all his successive meetings with
various ships contrastingly concurred to show the demoniac
indifference with which the white whale tore his hunters, whether
sinning or sinned against; now it was that there lurked a something
in the old man's eyes, which it was hardly sufferable for feeble
souls to see. As the unsetting polar star, which through the
livelong, arctic, six months' night sustains its piercing, steady,
central gaze; so Ahab's purpose now fixedly gleamed down upon the
constant midnight of the gloomy crew. It domineered above them so,
that all their bodings, doubts, misgivings, fears, were fain to hide
Moby Dick |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Plutarch's Lives by A. H. Clough: voyage, they would not be prevailed with, but, earnest to make
the best use of that opportunity, they urged Dion to lead them
straight on to Syracuse. Leaving therefore their baggage, and
the arms they did not use, Dion desired Synalus to convey them
to him as he had occasion, and marched directly to Syracuse.
The first that came in to him upon his march were two hundred
horse of the Agrigentines who were settled near Ecnomum, and,
after them, the Geloans. But the news soon flying to Syracuse,
Timocrates, who had married Dion's wife, the sister of
Dionysius, and was the principal man among his friends now
remaining in the city, immediately dispatched a courier to
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Egmont by Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe: the future. Could ye live, would ye live, were he to perish? With him
expires the last breath of freedom. What was he not to you? For whose
sake did he expose himself to the direst perils? His blood flowed, his
wounds were healed for you alone. The mighty spirit, that upheld you all,
a dungeon now confines, while the horrors of secret murder are hovering
around. Perhaps he thinks of you--perhaps he hopes in you,--he who has
been accustomed only to grant favours to others and to fulfil their prayers.
Carpenter. Come, gossip.
Clara. I have neither the arms, nor the vigour of a man; but I have that
which ye all lack--courage and contempt of danger. O that my breath
could kindle your souls! That, pressing you to this bosom, I could arouse
Egmont |
