| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Memories and Portraits by Robert Louis Stevenson: no cares beyond the dulness of his dogs and the inroads of
pedestrians from town. But for a man of his propensity to wrath
these were enough; he knew neither rest nor peace, except by
snatches; in the gray of the summer morning, and already from far
up the hill, he would wake the "toun" with the sound of his
shoutings; and in the lambing time, his cries were not yet silenced
late at night. This wrathful voice of a man unseen might be said
to haunt that quarter of the Pentlands, an audible bogie; and no
doubt it added to the fear in which men stood of John a touch of
something legendary. For my own part, he was at first my enemy,
and I, in my character of a rambling boy, his natural abhorrence.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Herland by Charlotte Gilman: "Of course. It is ours; it is among and between us, and it
changes with the succeeding and improving generations. We are at work,
slowly and carefully, developing our whole people along these lines.
It is glorious work--splendid! To see the thousands of babies improving,
showing stronger clearer minds, sweeter dispositions, higher capacities--
don't you find it so in your country?"
This I evaded flatly. I remembered the cheerless claim that the
human mind was no better than in its earliest period of savagery,
only better informed--a statement I had never believed.
"We try most earnestly for two powers," Somel continued.
"The two that seem to us basically necessary for all noble life:
Herland |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Confidence by Henry James: I should be happy if I never went out of this lovely room.
You have got it so beautifully arranged--I mean to do my own
room just like it when I go home. And you have got such
lovely clothes. You never used to say anything about it,
but you and Angela always had better clothes than I. Are you
always so quiet and serious--never talking about chiffons--
always reading some wonderful book? I wish you would let me
come and stay with you. If you only ask me, Gordon would be
too delighted. He would n't have to trouble about me any more.
He could go and live over in the Latin Quarter--that 's
the desire of his heart--and think of nothing but old bottles.
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