| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Journal of the Plague Year by Daniel Defoe: caused the goods to be unloaden and laid at the door, and sent the cart
away; upon which they carried the man before a justice of peace; that
is to say, they commanded him to go, which he did. The justice
ordered him to cause the cart to fetch away the goods again, which he
refused to do; upon which the justice ordered the constable to pursue
the carters and fetch them back, and make them reload the goods and
carry them away, or to set them in the stocks till they came for further
orders; and if they could not find them, nor the man would not
consent to take them away, they should cause them to be drawn with
hooks from the house-door and burned in the street. The poor
distressed man upon this fetched the goods again, but with grievous
A Journal of the Plague Year |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Woodlanders by Thomas Hardy: everything about the hut that is necessary."
"But, Giles--your supper," she exclaimed. "An out-house would do
for me--anything--till to-morrow at day-break!"
He signified a negative. "I tell you to go in--you may catch
agues out here in your delicate state. You can give me my supper
through the window, if you feel well enough. I'll wait a while."
He gently urged her to pass the door-way, and was relieved when he
saw her within the room sitting down. Without so much as crossing
the threshold himself, he closed the door upon her, and turned the
key in the lock. Tapping at the window, he signified that she
should open the casement, and when she had done this he handed in
The Woodlanders |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Passionate Pilgrim by William Shakespeare: Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend;
All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder;
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire:
Thy eye Jove's lightning seems, thy voice his dreadful thunder,
Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire.
Celestial as thou art, O do not love that wrong,
To sing heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue.
VI.
Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn,
And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade,
When Cytherea, all in love forlorn,
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