| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Perfect Wagnerite: A Commentary on the Niblung's Ring by George Bernard Shaw: taking arms himself to despoil Fafnir, who still, transformed to
a monstrous serpent, broods on the gold in a hole in the rocks.
Mimmy needs the help of a hero for that; and he has craft enough
to know that it is quite possible, and indeed much in the
ordinary way of the world, for senile avarice and craft to set
youth and bravery to work to win empire for it. He knows the
pedigree of the child left on his hands, and nurses it to manhood
with great care.
His pains are too well rewarded for his comfort. The boy
Siegfried, having no god to instruct him in the art of
unhappiness, inherits none of his father's ill luck, and all his
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Death of the Lion by Henry James: biggest wheels went round to the same treadle. I had a scene with
her in which I tried to express that the function of such a man was
to exercise his genius - not to serve as a hoarding for pictorial
posters. The people I was perhaps angriest with were the editors
of magazines who had introduced what they called new features, so
aware were they that the newest feature of all would be to make him
grind their axes by contributing his views on vital topics and
taking part in the periodical prattle about the future of fiction.
I made sure that before I should have done with him there would
scarcely be a current form of words left me to be sick of; but
meanwhile I could make surer still of my animosity to bustling
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Sons and Lovers by D. H. Lawrence: one Sunday morning, to the chatter of the father and child downstairs.
Then she dozed off. When she came downstairs, a great fire glowed
in the grate, the room was hot, the breakfast was roughly laid,
and seated in his armchair, against the chimney-piece, sat Morel,
rather timid; and standing between his legs, the child--cropped
like a sheep, with such an odd round poll--looking wondering at her;
and on a newspaper spread out upon the hearthrug, a myriad of
crescent-shaped curls, like the petals of a marigold scattered in the
reddening firelight.
Mrs. Morel stood still. It was her first baby. She went
very white, and was unable to speak.
Sons and Lovers |
