| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence: there.'
But Clifford shook his head.
'Not this year, dear! Not this year! Next year probably I'll try.'
She went away gloomily. Next year! What would next year bring? She
herself did not really want to go to Venice: not now, now there was the
other man. But she was going as a sort of discipline: and also because,
if she had a child, Clifford could think she had a lover in Venice.
It was already May, and in June they were supposed to start. Always
these arrangements! Always one's life arranged for one! Wheels that
worked one and drove one, and over which one had no real control!
It was May, but cold and wet again. A cold wet May, good for corn and
Lady Chatterley's Lover |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Crisis in Russia by Arthur Ransome: works out the main idea and aim for each picture, which
covers the whole side of a wagon. This idea is then
submitted to a "collective" of artists, who are jointly
responsible for its realization in paint. The artists compete
with each other for a prize which is awarded for the best
design, the judges being the artists themselves. It is the art
of the poster, art with a purpose of the most definite kind.
The result is sometimes amusing, interesting, startling, but,
whatever else it does, hammers home a plain idea.
Thus the picture on the side of one wagon is divided into
two sections. On the left is a representation of the peasants
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Prince of Bohemia by Honore de Balzac: white where the light falls on it), the brown hair worn rather long,
the black 'royale,' the grave and melancholy expression, for La
Palferine's character and exterior were amazingly at variance.
"At the sound of the name, and the sight of its owner, something like
a quiver thrilled through Claudine. La Palferine saw the vibration,
and shot a glance at her out of the dark depths of almond-shaped eyes
with purpled lids, and those faint lines about them which tell of
pleasures as costly as painful fatigue. With those eyes upon her, she
said--'Your address?'
" 'What want of address!'
" 'Oh, pshaw!' she said, smiling. 'A bird on the bough?'
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