| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Treatise on Parents and Children by George Bernard Shaw: agents of the community as of right, and with some formal
acknowledgment of the obligations it is incurring and a knowledge of
the fact that these obligations are being recorded: if, further,
certain qualifications are exacted before it is promoted from
permission to go as far as its legs will carry it to using mechanical
aids to locomotion, it can roam without much danger of gypsification.
Under such circumstances the boy or girl could always run away, and
never be lost; and on no other conditions can a child be free without
being also a homeless outcast.
Parents could also run away from disagreeable children or drive them
out of doors or even drop their acquaintance, temporarily or
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Long Odds by H. Rider Haggard: happened. My rifle was in the waggon, and my first thought being to get
hold of it, I turned and made a bolt for the box. I got my foot up on
the wheel and flung my body forward on to the waggon, and there I
stopped as if I were frozen, and no wonder, for as I was about to spring
up I heard the lion behind me, and next second I felt the brute, ay, as
plainly as I can feel this table. I felt him, I say, sniffing at my
left leg that was hanging down.
"My word! I did feel queer; I don't think that I ever felt so queer
before. I dared not move for the life of me, and the odd thing was that
I seemed to lose power over my leg, which developed an insane sort of
inclination to kick out of its own mere motion--just as hysterical
Long Odds |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy: and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished like tassets
of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him warily, and descending
to feed at a more respectful distance.
He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length
his heart grew sympathetic with the birds' thwarted desires.
They seemed, like himself, to be living in a world which did
not want them. Why should he frighten them away? They took
upon more and more the aspect of gentle friends and pensioners--
the only friends he could claim as being in the least degree
interested in him, for his aunt had often told him that she was not.
He ceased his rattling, and they alighted anew.
Jude the Obscure |
