| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from An Ideal Husband by Oscar Wilde: remember it perfectly. The ten commandments in every stroke of the
pen, and the moral law all over the page. Wonder what Gertrude is
writing to him about? Something horrid about me, I suppose. How I
detest that woman! [Reads it.] 'I trust you. I want you. I am
coming to you. Gertrude.' 'I trust you. I want you. I am coming
to you.'
[A look of triumph comes over her face. She is just about to steal
the letter, when PHIPPS comes in.]
PHIPPS. The candles in the drawing-room are lit, madam, as you
directed.
MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you. [Rises hastily and slips the letter under
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Sylvie and Bruno by Lewis Carroll: to watch them.
When the needle-work had been unfolded, and they were all ready to
begin, their mother said "Come, that's done, at last! You may fold up
your work, girls." But the children took no notice whatever of the
remark; on the contrary, they set to work at once sewing--if that is
the proper word to describe an operation such as I had never before
witnessed. Each of them threaded her needle with a short end of thread
attached to the work, which was instantly pulled by an invisible force
through the stuff, dragging the needle after it: the nimble fingers of
the little sempstress caught it at the other side, but only to lose it
again the next moment. And so the work went on, steadily undoing
Sylvie and Bruno |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Life on the Mississippi by Mark Twain: in dis mawnin'.'
He was uncertain as to when she might get her trip, but thought it
might be to-morrow or maybe next day. This would not answer at all;
so we had to give up the novelty of sailing down the river on a farm.
We had one more arrow in our quiver: a Vicksburg packet, the 'Gold Dust,'
was to leave at 5 P.M. We took passage in her for Memphis, and gave
up the idea of stopping off here and there, as being impracticable.
She was neat, clean, and comfortable. We camped on the boiler deck,
and bought some cheap literature to kill time with. The vender was a
venerable Irishman with a benevolent face and a tongue that worked easily
in the socket, and from him we learned that he had lived in St. Louis
|
