| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Options by O. Henry: "'Say not so, dearest and sweetest of earth's fairest flowers. Would
I aspire? You are a star set high above me in a royal heaven; I am
only--myself. Yet I am a man, and I have a heart to do and dare. I
have no title save that of an uncrowned sovereign; but I have an arm
and a sword that yet might free Schutzenfestenstein from the plots of
traitors.'
"Think of a Chicago man packing a sword, and talking about freeing
anything that sounded as much like canned pork as that! He'd be much
more likely to fight to have an import duty put on it."
"I think I understand you, John," said I. "You want fiction-writers
to be consistent with their scenes and characters. They shouldn't mix
Options |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Ann Veronica by H. G. Wells: chaotic search for employment and came into touch again with a
coherent and systematic development of ideas. The advanced work
at the Central Imperial College was in the closest touch with
living interests and current controversies; it drew its
illustrations and material from Russell's two great
researches--upon the relation of the brachiopods to the
echinodermata, and upon the secondary and tertiary mammalian and
pseudo-mammalian factors in the free larval forms of various
marine organisms. Moreover, a vigorous fire of mutual criticism
was going on now between the Imperial College and the Cambridge
Mendelians and echoed in the lectures. From beginning to end it
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from New Poems by Robert Louis Stevenson: GOD gave to me a child in part,
Yet wholly gave the father's heart:
Child of my soul, O whither now,
Unborn, unmothered, goest thou?
You came, you went, and no man wist;
Hapless, my child, no breast you kist;
On no dear knees, a privileged babbler, clomb,
Nor knew the kindly feel of home.
My voice may reach you, O my dear-
A father's voice perhaps the child may hear;
And, pitying, you may turn your view
|
