| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf: her anything, with all these people about. So she must go down and
begin dinner and wait. And, like some queen who, finding her people
gathered in the hall, looks down upon them, and descends among them,
and acknowledges their tributes silently, and accepts their devotion
and their prostration before her (Paul did not move a muscle but looked
straight before him as she passed) she went down, and crossed the hall
and bowed her head very slightly, as if she accepted what they could
not say: their tribute to her beauty.
But she stopped. There was a smell of burning. Could they have let the
BOEUF EN DAUBE overboil? she wondered, pray heaven not! when the
great clangour of the gong announced solemnly, authoritatively, that
To the Lighthouse |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Duchess of Padua by Oscar Wilde: DUCHESS
No, no, it held but death enough for one.
GUIDO
Is there no poison still upon your lips,
That I may draw it from them?
DUCHESS
Why should you die?
You have not spilt blood, and so need not die:
I have spilt blood, and therefore I must die.
Was it not said blood should be spilt for blood?
Who said that? I forget.
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from At the Mountains of Madness by H. P. Lovecraft: and which had formerly turned at the base of the Old Ones’ range
and flowed beside that chain into the Indian Ocean between Budd
and Totten Lands on Wilkes’s coast line. Little by little it had
eaten away the limestone hill base at its turning, till at last
its sapping currents reached the caverns of the ground waters
and joined with them in digging a deeper abyss. Finally its whole
bulk emptied into the hollow hills and left the old bed toward
the ocean dry. Much of the later city as we now found it had been
built over that former bed. The Old Ones, understanding what had
happened, and exercising their always keen artistic sense, had
carved into ornate pylons those headlands of the foothills where
At the Mountains of Madness |
