| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from She Stoops to Conquer by Oliver Goldsmith: hence, when your beauty begins to want repairs.
MISS NEVILLE. But what will repair beauty at forty, will certainly
improve it at twenty, madam.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Yours, my dear, can admit of none. That natural
blush is beyond a thousand ornaments. Besides, child, jewels are quite
out at present. Don't you see half the ladies of our acquaintance, my
Lady Kill-daylight, and Mrs. Crump, and the rest of them, carry their
jewels to town, and bring nothing but paste and marcasites back.
MISS NEVILLE. But who knows, madam, but somebody that shall be
nameless would like me best with all my little finery about me?
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Consult your glass, my dear, and then see if, with
She Stoops to Conquer |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne: "Is he ill?"
"Yes."
"I am ready to follow you."
"Come, then."
I own my heart beat, I do not know why. I saw certain connection
between the illness of one of the crew and the events of the day before;
and this mystery interested me at least as much as the sick man.
Captain Nemo conducted me to the poop of the Nautilus,
and took me into a cabin situated near the sailors' quarters.
There, on a bed, lay a man about forty years of age, with a resolute
expression of countenance, a true type of an Anglo-Saxon.
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Professor by Charlotte Bronte: forgotten, and certainly quite forgetting patrician relations.
>From whom, then, was it? I removed the envelope; the note folded
within ran as follows :-
"I have no doubt in the world that you are doing well in that
greasy Flanders; living probably on the fat of the unctuous land;
sitting like a black-haired, tawny-skinned, long-nosed Israelite
by the flesh-pots of Egypt; or like a rascally son of Levi near
the brass cauldrons of the sanctuary, and every now and then
plunging in a consecrated hook, and drawing out of the sea, of
broth the fattest of heave-shoulders and the fleshiest of
wave-breasts. I know this, because you never write to any one in
The Professor |
