| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf: wedge of darkness. Losing personality, one lost the fret, the hurry,
the stir; and there rose to her lips always some exclamation of triumph
over life when things came together in this peace, this rest, this
eternity; and pausing there she looked out to meet that stroke of the
Lighthouse, the long steady stroke, the last of the three, which was
her stroke, for watching them in this mood always at this hour one
could not help attaching oneself to one thing especially of the things
one saw; and this thing, the long steady stroke, was her stroke. Often
she found herself sitting and looking, sitting and looking, with her
work in her hands until she became the thing she looked at--that light,
for example. And it would lift up on it some little phrase or other
To the Lighthouse |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Emma by Jane Austen: "It is unfortunate that they cannot stay longer--but it seems a case
of necessity. Mr. John Knightley must be in town again on the 28th,
and we ought to be thankful, papa, that we are to have the whole
of the time they can give to the country, that two or three days
are not to be taken out for the Abbey. Mr. Knightley promises
to give up his claim this Christmas-- though you know it is longer
since they were with him, than with us."
"It would be very hard, indeed, my dear, if poor Isabella were
to be anywhere but at Hartfield."
Mr. Woodhouse could never allow for Mr. Knightley's claims on
his brother, or any body's claims on Isabella, except his own.
Emma |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Essays & Lectures by Oscar Wilde: more picturesque and graceful than a man at work. The artist who
goes to the children's playground, watches them at their sport and
sees the boy stoop to tie his shoe, will find the same themes that
engaged the attention of the ancient Greeks, and such observation
and the illustrations which follow will do much to correct that
foolish impression that mental and physical beauty are always
divorced.
To you, more than perhaps to any other country, has Nature been
generous in furnishing material for art workers to work in. You
have marble quarries where the stone is more beautiful in colour
than any the Greeks ever had for their beautiful work, and yet day
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