| 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: 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
nothing else to be done, but because these places, though they turn
out blackguards and ignoramuses and boobies galore, turn them out with
the habits and manners of the society they belong to. Bad as those
manners are in many respects, they are better than no manners at all.
And no individual or family can possibly teach them. They can be
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Criminal Sociology by Enrico Ferri: themselves useful.''[5]
[5] Moreau, ``Souvenirs de la petite et grande Roquette,'' Paris,
1884, ii. 440.
The born criminals and the occasional criminals constitute the
majority of the characteristic and diverse types of homicide and
thief. Prison governors call them ``gaol-birds.'' They pass on
from the police to the judge and to the prison, and from the
prison to the police and to the judge, with a regularity which has
not yet impaired the faith of law-makers in the efficacy of
punishment as a cure for crime.[6]
[6] Wayland, ``The Incorrigible,'' in the _Journal of Mental
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Camille by Alexandre Dumas: with their writs the last moments of her life, and who came now
after her death to gather in at once the fruits of their
dishonourable calculations and the interest on their shameful
credit, How wise were the ancients in having only one God for
traders and robbers!
Dresses, cashmeres, jewels, were sold with incredible rapidity.
There was nothing that I cared for, and I still waited. All at
once I heard: "A volume, beautifully bound, gilt-edged, entitled
Manon Lescaut. There is something written on the first page. Ten
francs."
"Twelve," said a voice after a longish silence.
Camille |
