| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving: at trifles; those who were nimble skipped over half with
impunity, and those who were tardy had a smart application now
and then in the rear, to quicken their speed or help them over a
tall word. Books were flung aside without being put away on the
shelves, inkstands were overturned, benches thrown down, and the
whole school was turned loose an hour before the usual time,
bursting forth like a legion of young imps, yelping and racketing
about the green in joy at their early emancipation.
The gallant Ichabod now spent at least an extra half hour at
his toilet, brushing and furbishing up his best, and indeed only
suit of rusty black, and arranging his locks by a bit of broken
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Woman and Labour by Olive Schreiner: important fields which are rapidly opening before the human race; if, as
the old forms of domestic labour slip from her for ever and evitably, she
does not grasp the new, it is inevitable, that, ultimately, not merely a
class, but the whole bodies of females in civilised societies, must sink
into a state of more or less absolute dependence on their sexual functions
alone. (How real is this apparently very remote danger is interestingly
illustrated by a proposition gravely made a few years ago by a man of note
in England. He proposed that a compulsory provision should be made for at
least the women of the upper and middle classes, by which they might be
maintained through life entirely without regard to any productive labour
they might perform, not even the passive labour of sexual reproduction
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from New Poems by Robert Louis Stevenson: And he was a master-man to see.
. . . And who is this yin? and who is yon
That has the bonny lendings on?
That sits and looks sae braw and crouse?
. . . Mister Frank o' the Big House!
I gaed my lane beside the sea;
The wind it blew in bush and tree,
The wind blew in bush and bent:
Muckle I saw, and muckle kent!
Between the beach and the sea-hill
I sat my lane and grat my fill -
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