| 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: world," no matter how wicked the world is. No parent cares twopence
whether his children can write Latin hexameters or repeat the dates of
the accession of all the English monarchs since the Conqueror; but all
parents are earnestly anxious about the manners of their children.
Better Claude Duval than Kaspar Hauser. Laborers who are
contemptuously anti-clerical in their opinions will send their
daughters to the convent school because the nuns teach them some sort
of gentleness of speech and behavior. And peers who tell you that our
public schools are rotten through and through, and that our
Universities ought to be razed to the foundations, send their sons to
Eton and Oxford, Harrow and Cambridge, not only because there is
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Spirit of the Border by Zane Grey: their homes. The frightened insects were now running round wildly.
"What was here? A log?"
"A twenty-foot canoe was hid under thet stuff. The Injuns has taken one of
these streams."
"How can we tell which one?"
"Mebbe we can't; but we'll try. Grab up a few of them bugs, go below thet
rocky point, an' crawl close to the bank so you can jest peep over. Be
keerful not to show the tip of your head, an' don't knock nothin' off'en the
bank into the water. Watch fer trout. Look everywheres, an' drop in a bug now
and then. I'll do the same fer the other stream. Then we'll come back here an'
talk over what the fish has to say about the Injuns."
The Spirit of the Border |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The New Machiavelli by H. G. Wells: shattered. I can't leave my work. I can't leave you. I want you
to have--all that you have ever had. I've never meant to rob you.
I've made an immense and tragic blunder. You don't know how things
took us, how different they seemed! My character and accident have
conspired--We'll pay--in ourselves, not in our public service."
I halted again. Margaret remained very still.
"I want you to understand that the thing is at an end. It is
definitely at an end. We--we talked--yesterday. We mean to end it
altogether." I clenched my hands. "She's--she's going to marry
Arnold Shoesmith."
I wasn't looking now at Margaret any more, but I heard the rustle of
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