| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions by Edwin A. Abbot: till once more his voice arrested me: "Look yonder,
and behold your own Pentagonal house, and all its inmates."
I looked below, and saw with my physical eye all that
domestic individuality which I had hitherto merely inferred
with the understanding. And how poor and shadowy was the inferred
conjecture in comparison with the reality which I now beheld!
My four Sons calmly asleep in the North-Western rooms,
my two orphan Grandsons to the South; the Servants, the Butler,
my Daughter, all in their several apartments. Only my
affectionate Wife, alarmed by my continued absence, had quitted
her room and was roving up and down in the Hall, anxiously awaiting
Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Start in Life by Honore de Balzac: one in particular, which the animals themselves obey without
discussion, and invariably; it is that which tells us to avoid those
who have once injured us, with or without intention, voluntarily or
involuntarily. The creature from whom we receive either damage or
annoyance will always be displeasing to us. Whatever may be his rank
or the degree of affection in which he stands to us, it is best to
break away from him; for our evil genius has sent him to us. Though
the Christian sentiment is opposed to it, obedience to this terrible
law is essentially social and conservative. The daughter of James II.,
who seated herself upon her father's throne, must have caused him many
a wound before that usurpation. Judas had certainly given some
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Life in the Iron-Mills by Rebecca Davis: ranging loose in the air.
The idiosyncrasy of this town is smoke. It rolls sullenly in
slow folds from the great chimneys of the iron-foundries, and
settles down in black, slimy pools on the muddy streets. Smoke
on the wharves, smoke on the dingy boats, on the yellow river,--
clinging in a coating of greasy soot to the house-front, the two
faded poplars, the faces of the passers-by. The long train of
mules, dragging masses of pig-iron through the narrow street,
have a foul vapor hanging to their reeking sides. Here, inside,
is a little broken figure of an angel pointing upward from the
mantel-shelf; but even its wings are covered with smoke, clotted
Life in the Iron-Mills |
