| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Mrs. Warren's Profession by George Bernard Shaw: energies on "pleasant plays" for the amusement of frivolous
people, when I can build up such excellent stage sermons on their
own work. Mrs Warren's Profession is the one play of mine which
I could submit to a censorship without doubt of the result; only,
it must not be the censorship of the minor theatre critic, nor of
an innocent court official like the Lord Chamberlain's Examiner,
much less of people who consciously profit by Mrs Warren's
profession, or who personally make use of it, or who hold the
widely whispered view that it is an indispensable safety-valve
for the protection of domestic virtue, or, above all, who are
smitten with a sentimental affection for our fallen sister, and
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte: so much because you refused to give me shelter, or regarded me as an
impostor, as because you just now made it a species of reproach that
I had no 'brass' and no house. Some of the best people that ever
lived have been as destitute as I am; and if you are a Christian,
you ought not to consider poverty a crime."
"No more I ought," said she: "Mr. St. John tells me so too; and I
see I wor wrang--but I've clear a different notion on you now to
what I had. You look a raight down dacent little crater."
"That will do--I forgive you now. Shake hands."
She put her floury and horny hand into mine; another and heartier
smile illumined her rough face, and from that moment we were
Jane Eyre |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Death of the Lion by Henry James: illustrious stranger. The party had been made up for him, Mrs.
Wimbush averred, and every one was counting on it, the dear
Princess most of all. If he was well enough he was to read them
something absolutely fresh, and it was on that particular prospect
the Princess had set her heart. She was so fond of genius in ANY
walk of life, and was so used to it and understood it so well: she
was the greatest of Mr. Paraday's admirers, she devoured everything
he wrote. And then he read like an angel. Mrs. Wimbush reminded
me that he had again and again given her, Mrs. Wimbush, the
privilege of listening to him.
I looked at her a moment. "What has he read to you?" I crudely
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