| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Intentions by Oscar Wilde: GILBERT. I am afraid it is true. Formerly we used to canonise our
heroes. The modern method is to vulgarise them. Cheap editions of
great books may be delightful, but cheap editions of great men are
absolutely detestable.
ERNEST. May I ask, Gilbert, to whom you allude?
GILBERT. Oh! to all our second-rate LITTERATEURS. We are overrun
by a set of people who, when poet or painter passes away, arrive at
the house along with the undertaker, and forget that their one duty
is to behave as mutes. But we won't talk about them. They are the
mere body-snatchers of literature. The dust is given to one, and
the ashes to another, and the soul is out of their reach. And now,
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Herland by Charlotte Gilman: turn, with no more terror than a set of frolicsome children in a
game of tag, sat as lightly as so many big bright birds on their
precarious perches and frankly, curiously, stared at us.
"Girls!" whispered Jeff, under his breath, as if they might fly
if he spoke aloud.
"Peaches!" added Terry, scarcely louder. "Peacherinos--
apricot-nectarines! Whew!"
They were girls, of course, no boys could ever have shown
that sparkling beauty, and yet none of us was certain at first.
We saw short hair, hatless, loose, and shining; a suit of some
light firm stuff, the closest of tunics and kneebreeches, met by
Herland |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Mirror of the Sea by Joseph Conrad: times the Tremolino in the neighbourhood of the Gulf of Rosas), for
faithful transportation inland, together with the various unlawful
goods landed secretly from under the Tremolino's hatches.
Well, now, I have really let out too much (as I feared I should in
the end) as to the usual contents of my sea-cradle. But let it
stand. And if anybody remarks cynically that I must have been a
promising infant in those days, let that stand, too. I am
concerned but for the good name of the Tremolino, and I affirm that
a ship is ever guiltless of the sins, transgressions, and follies
of her men.
XLII.
The Mirror of the Sea |
