| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Mrs. Warren's Profession by George Bernard Shaw: the musician, after whose enchantments all the verbal arts seem
cold and tame. Romeo and Juliet with the loveliest Juliet is
dry, tedious, and rhetorical in comparison with Wagner's Tristan,
even though Isolde be both fourteen stone and forty, as she often
is in Germany. Indeed, it needed no Wagner to convince the
public of this. The voluptuous sentimentality of Gounod's Faust
and Bizet's Carmen has captured the common playgoer; and there
is, flatly, no future now for any drama without music except the
drama of thought. The attempt to produce a genus of opera
without music (and this absurdity is what our fashionable
theatres have been driving at for a long time without knowing it)
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Footnote to History by Robert Louis Stevenson: natives that they cannot refrain from repeating them, even when
they have been levelled at themselves. The assumption of the Atua
NAME spread discontent in that province; many chiefs from thence
were convicted of disaffection, and condemned to labour with their
hands upon the roads - a great shock to the Samoan sense of the
becoming, which was rendered the more sensible by the death of one
of the number at his task. Mataafa was involved in the same
trouble. His disaffected speech at a meeting of Atua chiefs was
betrayed by the girls that made the kava, and the man of the future
was called to Apia on safe-conduct, but, after an interview,
suffered to return to his lair. The peculiarly tender treatment of
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Baby Mine by Margaret Mayo: with the babe in his arms, undoubtedly enjoying the sensations of
a hero. When he could sufficiently control his feeling of
elation, he looked down at the small person with an air of
condescension and again lent himself to the garbled sort of
language with which defenceless infants are inevitably
persecuted.
"Tink of dat horrid old woman wanting to steal our own little
oppsie, woppsie, toppsie babykins," he said. Then he turned to
Zoie with an air of great decision. "That woman ought to be
locked up," he declared, "she's dangerous," and with that he
crossed to Aggie and hurriedly placed the infant in her
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