| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Horse's Tale by Mark Twain: everything considered. Everything considered - being translated -
means holidays. But the fact is, she was not born for study, and
it comes hard. Hard for me, too; it hurts me like a physical pain
to see that free spirit of the air and the sunshine laboring and
grieving over a book; and sometimes when I find her gazing far away
towards the plain and the blue mountains with the longing in her
eyes, I have to throw open the prison doors; I can't help it. A
quaint little scholar she is, and makes plenty of blunders. Once I
put the question:
"What does the Czar govern?"
She rested her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand and took
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Damaged Goods by Upton Sinclair: me!" she screamed, like a maniac. "Don't touch me!"
CHAPTER V
It was in vain that Madame Dupont sought to control her daughter-
in-law. Henriette was beside herself, frantic, she could not be
brought to listen to any one. She rushed into the other room,
and when the older woman followed her, shrieked out to be left
alone. Afterwards, she fled to her own room and barred herself
in, and George and his mother waited distractedly for hours until
she should give some sign.
Would she kill herself, perhaps? Madame Dupont hovered on guard
about the door of the nursery for fear that the mother in her fit
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Sesame and Lilies by John Ruskin: for you. Suppose I were to tell you that! What would be the use?
Would you look at Gustave Dore less? Rather, more, I fancy. On the
other hand, I could soon put you into good humour with me, if I
chose. I know well enough what you like, and how to praise it to
your better liking. I could talk to you about moonlight, and
twilight, and spring flowers, and autumn leaves, and the Madonnas of
Raphael--how motherly! and the Sibyls of Michael Angelo--how
majestic! and the Saints of Angelico--how pious! and the Cherubs of
Correggio--how delicious! Old as I am, I could play you a tune on
the harp yet, that you would dance to. But neither you nor I should
be a bit the better or wiser; or, if we were, our increased wisdom
|