| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Dunwich Horror by H. P. Lovecraft: and Aylesbury to look up property and notify any who might be
heirs of the late Wilbur Whateley. They found the countryside
in great agitation, both because of the growing rumblings beneath
the domed hills, and because of the unwonted stench and the surging,
lapping sounds which came increasingly from the great empty shell
formed by Whateley's boarded-up farmhouse. Earl Sawyer, who tended
the horse and cattle during Wilbur's absence, had developed a
woefully acute case of nerves. The officials devised excuses not
to enter the noisome boarded place; and were glad to confine their
survey of the deceased's living quarters, the newly mended sheds,
to a single visit. They filed a ponderous report at the courthouse
The Dunwich Horror |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Another Study of Woman by Honore de Balzac: and those to which I have alluded, does the particular wit abound
which gives an agreeable and changeful unity to all these social
qualities, an indescribable river-like flow which makes this profusion
of ideas, of definitions, of anecdotes, of historical incidents,
meander with ease. Paris, the capital of taste, alone possesses the
science which makes conversation a tourney in which each type of wit
is condensed into a shaft, each speaker utters his phrase and casts
his experience in a word, in which every one finds amusement,
relaxation, and exercise. Here, then, alone, will you exchange ideas;
here you need not, like the dolphin in the fable, carry a monkey on
your shoulders; here you will be understood, and will not risk staking
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Three Taverns by Edwin Arlington Robinson: My keepers in this instance are not hard.
But for the chance of an ingratitude,
I might indeed be curious of their mercy,
And fearful of their leisure while I wait,
A few leagues out of Rome. Men go to Rome,
Not always to return -- but not that now.
Meanwhile, I seem to think you look at me
With eyes that are at last more credulous
Of my identity. You remark in me
No sort of leaping giant, though some words
Of mine to you from Corinth may have leapt
|
