| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe: their government, their religion, their wealth, and their glory, as
some call it, I must confess that I scarcely think it worth my
while to mention them here. We wonder at the grandeur, the riches,
the pomp, the ceremonies, the government, the manufactures, the
commerce, and conduct of these people; not that there is really any
matter for wonder, but because, having a true notion of the
barbarity of those countries, the rudeness and the ignorance that
prevail there, we do not expect to find any such thing so far off.
Otherwise, what are their buildings to the palaces and royal
buildings of Europe? What their trade to the universal commerce of
England, Holland, France, and Spain? What are their cities to
Robinson Crusoe |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling: Rookery of Masafuera, and in the days when men killed us by the
hundred thousand there was a story on the beaches that some day a
white seal would come out of the North and lead the seal people to
a quiet place. I am old, and I shall never live to see that day,
but others will. Try once more."
And Kotick curled up his mustache (it was a beauty) and said,
"I am the only white seal that has ever been born on the beaches,
and I am the only seal, black or white, who ever thought of
looking for new islands."
This cheered him immensely; and when he came back to
Novastoshnah that summer, Matkah, his mother, begged him to marry
The Jungle Book |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Tales of Unrest by Joseph Conrad: was the subtle despotism of an idea that suffers no rivals, that is
lonely, inconsolable, and dangerous. He went slowly up the stairs.
Nobody shall know. The days would go on and he would go far--very far.
If the idea could not be mastered, fortune could be, man could be--the
whole world. He was dazzled by the greatness of the prospect; the
brutality of a practical instinct shouted to him that only that which
could be had was worth having. He lingered on the steps. The lights
were out in the hall, and a small yellow flame flitted about down
there. He felt a sudden contempt for himself which braced him up. He
went on, but at the door of their room and with his arm advanced to
open it, he faltered. On the flight of stairs below the head of the
Tales of Unrest |
