| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The White Moll by Frank L. Packard: balked, almost a madman in his fury, in the little room over
Shluker's junk shop, Danglar had not been seen - nor the Adventurer
- nor even Rough Rorke. Her only visitant since then had been an
ugly premonition of impending peril, which came and stalked like a
hideous ghost about the bare and miserable garret, and which woke
her at night with its whispering voice - which was the voice of
intuition.
Rhoda Gray drew her shawl closer around her shoulders and shivered,
as now, from shuffling down the block in the guise of Gypsy Nan,
she halted before the street door of what fate, for the moment, had
thrust upon her as a home; and shivered again, as, with abhorrence,
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Pivot of Civilization by Margaret Sanger: school. Educators are just beginning to wake up to the dangers
inherent in the attempt to teach the brightest child and the mentally
defective child at the same time. They are beginning to test the
possibilities of a ``vertical'' classification as well as a
``horizontal'' one. That is, each class must be divided into what are
termed Gifted, Bright, Average, Dull, Normal, and Defective. In the
past the helter-skelter crowding and over-crowding together of all
classes of children of approximately the same age, produced only a
dull leveling to mediocrity.[6]
An investigation of forty schools in New York City, typical of
hundreds of others, reveals deplorable conditions of overcrowding and
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Far From the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy: plimmed and feli-plimmed and feli-every time plain
to my eye. Ay, and there were the fellers round her
wringing down the cheese and bustling about and
saying, Ware o' the pommy, ma'am: 'twill spoil yer
gown. "Never mind me," says she. Then Gabe
brought her some of the new cider, and she must
needs go drinking it through a strawmote, and not in
a nateral way at all. "Liddy," says she, "bring indoors
a few gallons, and I'll make some cider-wine." Sergeant,
I was no more to her than a morsel of scroffin the fuel
house!"
Far From the Madding Crowd |
