|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Mrs. Warren's Profession by George Bernard Shaw:
question, I fear, must be a blunt Yes; for it seems impossible to
root out of an Englishman's mind the notion that vice is
delightful, and that abstention from it is privation. At all
events, as long as the tempting side of it is kept towards the
public, and softened by plenty of sentiment and sympathy, it is
welcomed by our Censor, whereas the slightest attempt to place it
in the light of the policeman's lantern or the Salvation Army
shelter is checkmated at once as not merely disgusting, but, if
you please, unnecessary.
Everybody will, I hope, admit that this state of things is
intolerable; that the subject of Mrs Warren's profession must be
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Extracts From Adam's Diary by Mark Twain:
main part of its person to stick up uncomfortably high in the air,
and this is not attractive. It is built much as we are, but its
method of travelling shows that it is not of our breed. The short
front legs and long hind ones indicate that it is of the kangaroo
family, but it is a marked variation of the species, since the
true kangaroo hops, whereas this one never does. Still, it is a
curious and interesting variety, and has not been catalogued before.
As I discovered it, I have felt justified in securing the credit
of the discovery by attaching my name to it, and hence have called
it Kangaroorum Adamiensis. ... It must have been a young one
when it came, for it has grown exceedingly since. It must be five
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Mother by Owen Wister:
"I see you are anxious about him," Mrs. Davenport continued after
breakfast. "You are surely not afraid his story will fail to interest
"No, it is not that."
"It can't be that he has given up the one he expected to tell us and can
think of no other?"
"Oh, no; he is going to tell that one."
"And you don't like his choice?"
"He won't tell me what it is!" Mrs. Davenport put down her embroidery.
"Then, Ethel," she laid with severity, "the fault is yours. When I had
been five years married, Mr. Davenport confided everything to me."