| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Catriona by Robert Louis Stevenson: gain his purpose. To lessen the weight of the memorial, or to have a
readier answer at his hand, he desired I should appear publicly in the
character of his intimate. But if I were to appear with the same
publicity as a visitor to Catriona in her prison the world would scarce
stint to draw conclusions, and the true nature of James More's escape
must become evident to all. This was the little problem I had to set
him of a sudden, and to which he had so briskly found an answer. I was
to be tethered in Glasgow by that job of copying, which in mere outward
decency I could not well refuse; and during these hours of employment
Catriona was privately got rid of. I think shame to write of this man
that loaded me with so many goodnesses. He was kind to me as any
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence: her mind. She didn't want to hate him. She didn't want to be mixed up
very intimately with him in any sort of feeling. She wanted him not to
know anything at all about herself: and especially, not to know
anything about her feeling for the keeper. This squabble of her
attitude to the servants was an old one. He found her too familiar, she
found him stupidly insentient, tough and indiarubbery where other
people were concerned.
She went downstairs calmly, with her old demure bearing, at
dinner-time. He was still yellow at the gills: in for one of his liver
bouts, when he was really very queer.--He was reading a French book.
'Have you ever read Proust?' he asked her.
Lady Chatterley's Lover |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Venus and Adonis by William Shakespeare: Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear,
To hearken if his foes pursue him still:
Anon their loud alarums he doth hear; 700
And now his grief may be compared well
To one sore sick that hears the passing bell.
'Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch
Turn, and return, indenting with the way; 704
Each envious briar his weary legs doth scratch,
Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay:
For misery is trodden on by many,
And being low never reliev'd by any. 708
|
