| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Thuvia, Maid of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs: sworn you loved me. Indeed, you well knew how
near to worship has been my love for you."
"And how might I know it, Carthoris?" she asked innocently.
"Did you ever tell me as much? Ever before have words
of love for me fallen from your lips?"
"But you MUST have known it!" he exclaimed. "I am
like my father--witless in matters of the heart, and of a
poor way with women; yet the jewels that strew these
royal garden paths--the trees, the flowers, the sward--
all must have read the love that has filled my heart since
first my eyes were made new by imaging your perfect face
Thuvia, Maid of Mars |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Louis Lambert by Honore de Balzac: forms of worship are infinitely various, neither their true
meaning nor their metaphysical interpretation has ever varied. In
short, man has, and has had, but one religion.
"Sivaism, Vishnuism, and Brahmanism, the three primitive creeds,
originating as they did in Thibet, in the valley of the Indus, and
on the vast plains of the Ganges, ended their warfare some
thousand years before the birth of Christ by adopting the Hindoo
Trimourti. The Trimourti is our Trinity. From this dogma Magianism
arose in Persia; in Egypt, the African beliefs and the Mosaic law;
the worship of the Cabiri, and the polytheism of Greece and Rome.
While by this ramification of the Trimourti the Asiatic myths
Louis Lambert |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Georgics by Virgil: Upon the stage find entrance; therefore too
The sons of Theseus through the country-side-
Hamlet and crossway- set the prize of wit,
And on the smooth sward over oiled skins
Dance in their tipsy frolic. Furthermore
The Ausonian swains, a race from Troy derived,
Make merry with rough rhymes and boisterous mirth,
Grim masks of hollowed bark assume, invoke
Thee with glad hymns, O Bacchus, and to thee
Hang puppet-faces on tall pines to swing.
Hence every vineyard teems with mellowing fruit,
Georgics |
