| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Lady Baltimore by Owen Wister: this agreeable sight was spoiled at once by the quite horrible words
Nycticebidoe, platyrrhine, catarrhine, from which I raised my eyes to see
him coming at me with two pamphlets, and scolding as he came.
"Are you educated, yes? Have been to college, yes? Then perhaps you will
understand."
Certainly I understood immediately that he and his pamphlets were as bad
as the book, or worse, in their use of a vocabulary designed to cause
almost any listener the gravest inconvenience. Common Eocene ancestors
occurred at the beginning of his lecture; and I believed that if it got
no stronger than this, I could at least preserve the appearance of
comprehending him; but it got stronger, and at sacro-iliac notch I may
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Emma by Jane Austen: As Harriet described it, there had been an interesting mixture
of wounded affection and genuine delicacy in their behaviour.
But she had believed them to be well-meaning, worthy people before;
and what difference did this make in the evils of the connexion?
It was folly to be disturbed by it. Of course, he must be sorry
to lose her--they must be all sorry. Ambition, as well as love,
had probably been mortified. They might all have hoped to rise
by Harriet's acquaintance: and besides, what was the value of
Harriet's description?--So easily pleased--so little discerning;--
what signified her praise?
She exerted herself, and did try to make her comfortable,
Emma |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Red Inn by Honore de Balzac: senseless."
Then he took me in his arms and pressed me to him with all his
strength.
"You are the last man, the last friend to whom I can show my soul. You
will be set at liberty, you will see your mother! I don't know whether
you are rich or poor, but no matter! you are all the world to me. They
won't fight always, 'ceux-ci.' Well, when there's peace, will you go
to Beauvais? If my mother has survived the fatal news of my death, you
will find her there. Say to her the comforting words, 'He was
innocent!' She will believe you. I am going to write to her; but you
must take her my last look; you must tell her that you were the last
|
