| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from 1984 by George Orwell: a centimetre in any direction. For the moment he had even forgotten the
dial. All he wanted was to hold the photograph in his fingers again, or at
least to see it.
'It exists!' he cried.
'No,' said O'Brien.
He stepped across the room. There was a memory hole in the opposite wall.
O'Brien lifted the grating. Unseen, the frail slip of paper was whirling
away on the current of warm air; it was vanishing in a flash of flame.
O'Brien turned away from the wall.
'Ashes,' he said. 'Not even identifiable ashes. Dust. It does not exist.
It never existed.'
1984 |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Woman of No Importance by Oscar Wilde: find a career ready for one - before one - waiting for one. If I
were Lord Illingworth's secretary I could ask Hester to be my wife.
As a wretched bank clerk with a hundred a year it would be an
impertinence.
MRS. ARBUTHNOT. I fear you need have no hopes of Miss Worsley. I
know her views on life. She has just told them to me. [A pause.]
GERALD. Then I have my ambition left, at any rate. That is
something - I am glad I have that! You have always tried to crush
my ambition, mother - haven't you? You have told me that the world
is a wicked place, that success is not worth having, that society
is shallow, and all that sort of thing - well, I don't believe it,
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Profits of Religion by Upton Sinclair: hierarchy into line. It is one of the ironies of history that the
most reactionary organization in the world should be lending its
aid to the destruction of the second most reactionary. When the
Catholic Church marches forth to war for Democracy, it is not
drawing America down into the pit, but is letting America pull it
out of the pit--at least for a time, and the spectacle is one in
which all lovers of progress will rejoice.
BOOK FOUR
The Church of the Slavers
See, underneath the Crown of Thorn,
The eye-balls fierce, the features grim!
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