| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Bunner Sisters by Edith Wharton: she shrank back shyly from its contemplation. A plan so steeped in
duplicity had never before taken shape in her crystalline soul.
How was it possible for her to consider such a step? And, besides,
(she did not possess sufficient logic to mark the downward trend of
this "besides"), what excuse could she make that would not excite
her sister's curiosity? From this second query it was an easy
descent to the third: how soon could she manage to go?
It was Evelina herself, who furnished the necessary pretext by
awaking with a sore throat on the day when she usually went to
market. It was a Saturday, and as they always had their bit of
steak on Sunday the expedition could not be postponed, and it
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Grimm's Fairy Tales by Brothers Grimm: that whenever I think of it I cannot help being sorrowful, for who can
reach it? only the birds and the flies--man cannot.' 'If that's all
your grief,' said the huntsman, 'I'll take there with all my heart';
so he drew her under his cloak, and the moment he wished to be on the
granite mountain they were both there. The diamonds glittered so on
all sides that they were delighted with the sight and picked up the
finest. But the old witch made a deep sleep come upon him, and he said
to the young lady, 'Let us sit down and rest ourselves a little, I am
so tired that I cannot stand any longer.' So they sat down, and he
laid his head in her lap and fell asleep; and whilst he was sleeping
on she took the cloak from his shoulders, hung it on her own, picked
Grimm's Fairy Tales |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Tales of Unrest by Joseph Conrad: both encrusted with ink and completely undistinguishable from each
other. It was very distressing, but being determined not to share my
sentiment between two pens or run the risk of sentimentalising over a
mere stranger, I threw them both out of the window into a flower bed--
which strikes me now as a poetical grave for the remnants of one's
past.
But the tale remained. It was first fixed in print in the "Cornhill
Magazine", being my first appearance in a serial of any kind; and I
have lived long enough to see it guyed most agreeably by Mr. Max
Beerbohm in a volume of parodies entitled "A Christmas Garland," where
I found myself in very good company. I was immensely gratified. I
Tales of Unrest |
