| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Prufrock/Other Observations by T. S. Eliot: throat, bruised by the ripple of unseen muscles. An elderly waiter
with trembling hands was hurriedly spreading a pink and white checked
cloth over the rusty green iron table, saying: "If the lady and
gentleman wish to take their tea in the garden, if the lady and
gentleman wish to take their tea in the garden ..." I decided that
if the shaking of her breasts could be stopped,some of the fragments
of the afternoon might be collected, and I concentrated my attention
with careful subtlety to this end.
Conversation Galante
I observe: "Our sentimental friend the moon
Or possibly (fantastic, I confess)
Prufrock/Other Observations |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Tragedy of Pudd'nhead Wilson by Mark Twain: to ride down on; but he never got a ride himself. He built snowmen
and snow fortifications under Tom's directions. He was Tom's patient
target when Tom wanted to do some snowballing, but the target couldn't
fire back. Chambers carried Tom's skates to the river and strapped
them on him, the trotted around after him on the ice, so as to be on
hand when he wanted; but he wasn't ever asked to try the skates himself.
In summer the pet pastime of the boys of Dawson's Landing was to
steal apples, peaches, and melons from the farmer's fruit wagons--
mainly on account of the risk they ran of getting their heads laid
open with the butt of the farmer's whip. Tom was a distinguished adept
at these thefts--by proxy. Chambers did his stealing, and got the
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Door in the Wall, et. al. by H. G. Wells: carry us through as a train carries the shadow of its lights--so be
it! But one thing is real and certain, one thing is no dream-
stuff, but eternal and enduring. It is the centre of my life, and
all other things about it are subordinate or altogether vain. I
loved her, that woman of a dream. And she and I are dead together!
"A dream! How can it be a dream, when it drenched a living
life with unappeasable sorrow, when it makes all that I have lived
for and cared for, worthless and unmeaning?
"Until that very moment when she was killed I believed we had
still a chance of getting away," he said. "All through the night
and morning that we sailed across the sea from Capri to Salerno, we
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