| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Animal Farm by George Orwell: in the cellars of the farmhouse. It had been overlooked at the time when
the house was first occupied. That night there came from the farmhouse the
sound of loud singing, in which, to everyone's surprise, the strains of
'Beasts of England' were mixed up. At about half past nine Napoleon,
wearing an old bowler hat of Mr. Jones's, was distinctly seen to emerge
from the back door, gallop rapidly round the yard, and disappear indoors
again. But in the morning a deep silence hung over the farmhouse. Not a
pig appeared to be stirring. It was nearly nine o'clock when Squealer made
his appearance, walking slowly and dejectedly, his eyes dull, his tail
hanging limply behind him, and with every appearance of being seriously
ill. He called the animals together and told them that he had a terrible
Animal Farm |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Art of Writing by Robert Louis Stevenson: the ten syllables; and we do not find verses of two, because
one of the main distinctions of verse from prose resides in
the comparative shortness of the group; but it is even common
to find verses of three. Five is the one forbidden number;
because five is the number of the feet; and if five were
chosen, the two patterns would coincide, and that opposition
which is the life of verse would instantly be lost. We have
here a clue to the effect of polysyllables, above all in
Latin, where they are so common and make so brave an
architecture in the verse; for the polysyllable is a group of
Nature's making. If but some Roman would return from Hades
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Another Study of Woman by Honore de Balzac: heads. However terrible the words, they must be spoken: Duchesses are
vanishing, and marquises too! As to the baronesses--I must apologize
to Madame de Nucingen, who will become a countess when her husband is
made a peer of France--baronesses have never succeeded in getting
people to take them seriously."
"Aristocracy begins with the viscountess," said Blondet with a smile.
"Countesses will survive," said de Marsay. "An elegant woman will be
more or less of a countess--a countess of the Empire or of yesterday,
a countess of the old block, or, as they say in Italy, a countess by
courtesy. But as to the great lady, she died out with the dignified
splendor of the last century, with powder, patches, high-heeled
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