| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from First Inaugural Address by Abraham Lincoln: questions are to be decided by the Supreme Court; nor do I deny
that such decisions must be binding, in any case, upon the parties
to a suit, as to the object of that suit, while they are also entitled
to very high respect and consideration in all parallel cases by all other
departments of the government. And while it is obviously possible that
such decision may be erroneous in any given case, still the evil effect
following it, being limited to that particular case, with the chance that
it may be overruled and never become a precedent for other cases,
can better be borne than could the evils of a different practice.
At the same time, the candid citizen must confess that if the policy
of the government, upon vital questions affecting the whole people,
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Door in the Wall, et. al. by H. G. Wells: and for all what sight would do for a man. They would seek him,
but not find him.
"You move not, Bogota," said the voice.
He laughed noiselessly and made two stealthy steps aside from
the path.
"Trample not on the grass, Bogota; that is not allowed."
Nunez had scarcely heard the sound he made himself. He
stopped, amazed.
The owner of the voice came running up the piebald path
towards him.
He stepped back into the pathway. "Here I am," he said.
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf: not help knowing it, the torch of her beauty; she carried it erect into
any room that she entered; and after all, veil it as she might, and shrink
from the monotony of bearing that it imposed on her, her beauty was
apparent. She had been admired. She had been loved. She had entered
rooms where mourners sat. Tears had flown in her presence. Men, and
women too, letting go to the multiplicity of things, had allowed
themselves with her the relief of simplicity. It injured her that he
should shrink. It hurt her. And yet not cleanly, not rightly. That was
what she minded, coming as it did on top of her discontent with her
husband; the sense she had now when Mr Carmichael shuffled past, just
nodding to her question, with a book beneath his arm, in his yellow
To the Lighthouse |
