| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Another Study of Woman by Honore de Balzac: at its heels. Hence, where the middle class insist on seeing
princesses, these are really only ladylike young women. In these days
princes can find no great ladies whom they may compromise; they cannot
even confer honor on a woman taken up at random. The Duc de Bourbon
was the last prince to avail himself of this privilege."
"And God alone knows how dearly he paid for it," said Lord Dudley.
"Nowadays princes have lady-like wives, obliged to share their opera-
box with other ladies; royal favor could not raise them higher by a
hair's breadth; they glide unremarkable between the waters of the
citizen class and those of the nobility--not altogether noble nor
altogether /bourgeoises/," said the Marquise de Rochegude acridly.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The First Men In The Moon by H. G. Wells: First one fluky start and then another. It was my confidence in you! Why
didn't I stick to my play? That was what I was equal to. That was my world
and the life I was made for. I could have finished that play. I'm certain
... it was a good play. I had the scenario as good as done. Then. ...
Conceive it! leaping to the moon! Practically I've thrown my life away!
That old woman in the inn near Canterbury had better sense."
I looked up, and stopped in mid-sentence. The darkness had given place to
that bluish light again. The door was opening, and several noiseless
Selenites were coming into the chamber. I became quite still, staring at
their grotesque faces.
Then suddenly my sense of disagreeable strangeness changed to interest. I
The First Men In The Moon |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Walking by Henry David Thoreau: rightly the thick and thin skin. But methinks that is a scurf
that will fall off fast enough--that the natural remedy is to be
found in the proportion which the night bears to the day, the
winter to the summer, thought to experience. There will be so
much the more air and sunshine in our thoughts. The callous palms
of the laborer are conversant with finer tissues of self-respect
and heroism, whose touch thrills the heart, than the languid
fingers of idleness. That is mere sentimentality that lies abed
by day and thinks itself white, far from the tan and callus of
experience.
When we walk, we naturally go to the fields and woods: what would
Walking |
