| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens: with his fingers. 'It's snug enough, an't it?'
'Snug!' said John indignantly. 'You have a comfortable idea of
snugness, you have, sir. Do you know what was done in that room,
you ruffian?'
'Why, what is it the worse for that!' cried Hugh, looking into
John's fat face. 'Does it keep out the rain, and snow, and wind,
the less for that? Is it less warm or dry, because a man was
killed there? Ha, ha, ha! Never believe it, master. One man's no
such matter as that comes to.'
Mr Willet fixed his dull eyes on his follower, and began--by a
species of inspiration--to think it just barely possible that he
Barnaby Rudge |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Contrast by Royall Tyler: tion for a psalm and a sermon. Church is rather
melancholy, to be sure; but then I can ogle the beaux,
and be regaled with "here endeth the first lesson," but
his brotherly here, you would think had no end. You
captivate him! Why, my dear, he would as soon fall
in love with a box of Italian flowers. There is Maria,
now, if she were not engaged, she might do something.
Oh! how I should like to see that pair of pensorosos
together, looking as grave as two sailors' wives of a
stormy night, with a flow of sentiment meandering
through their conversation like purling streams in
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Poems of William Blake by William Blake: The Cloud descended and the Lily bowd her modest head:
And went to mind her numerous charge among the verdant grass.
II.
O little Cloud the virgin said, I charge thee to tell me
Why thou complainest now when in one hour thou fade away:
Then we shall seek thee but not find: ah Thel is like to thee.
I pass away, yet I complain, and no one hears my voice.
The Cloud then shewd his golden head & his bright form emerg'd.
Hovering and glittering on the air before the face of Thel.
O virgin know'st thou not our steeds drink of the golden springs
Where Luvah doth renew his horses: lookst thou on my youth.
Poems of William Blake |
