| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from In Darkest England and The Way Out by General William Booth: This, however, is only one branch of industry. Take old umbrellas.
We all know the itinerant umbrella mender, whose appearance in the
neighbourhood of the farmhouse leads the good wife to look after her
poultry and to see well to it that the watchdog is on the premises.
But that gentleman is almost the only agency by which old umbrellas can
be rescued from the dust heap. Side by side with our Boot Factory we
shall have a great umbrella works. The ironwork of one umbrella will
be fitted to the stick of another, and even from those that are too
hopelessly gone for any further use as umbrellas we shall find plenty
of use for their steels and whalebone.
So I might go on. Bottles are a fertile source of minor domestic
In Darkest England and The Way Out |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Night and Day by Virginia Woolf: they had not just resolved on reform. They found, to begin with, a
great variety of very imposing paragraphs with which the biography was
to open; many of these, it is true, were unfinished, and resembled
triumphal arches standing upon one leg, but, as Mrs. Hilbery observed,
they could be patched up in ten minutes, if she gave her mind to it.
Next, there was an account of the ancient home of the Alardyces, or
rather, of spring in Suffolk, which was very beautifully written,
although not essential to the story. However, Katharine had put
together a string of names and dates, so that the poet was capably
brought into the world, and his ninth year was reached without further
mishap. After that, Mrs. Hilbery wished, for sentimental reasons, to
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Children of the Night by Edwin Arlington Robinson: All on a different road. Hereafter
The roads may meet. . . . I trust in something --
I know not what. . . .
Well, this was the way of it: --
Stung with the shame and the secret fury
That comes to the man who has thrown his pittance
Of self at a traitor's feet, I wandered
Weeks and weeks in a baffled frenzy,
Till at last the devil spoke. I heard him,
And laughed at the love that strove to touch me, --
The dead, lost love; and I gripped the demon
|
