| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from An Unsocial Socialist by George Bernard Shaw: remainder of the letter. When he had finished he threw it on the
table, thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and roared with
laughter, huddling himself together as if he could concentrate
the joke by collecting himself into the smallest possible
compass. Henrietta, speechless with indignation, could only look
her feelings. At last he came and sat down beside her.
"And so," he said, "on receiving this you rushed out in the cold
and came all the way to Lyvern. Now, it seems to me that you must
either love me very much- -"
"I don't. I hate you."
"Or else love yourself very much."
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Secret Agent by Joseph Conrad: the inquiries into her circumstances had not been pushed very far.
She had checked them by a visible compression of the lips and some
display of an emotion determined to be eloquently silent. And the
men would become suddenly incurious, after the manner of their
kind. She congratulated herself more than once on having nothing
to do with women, who being naturally more callous and avid of
details, would have been anxious to be exactly informed by what
sort of unkind conduct her daughter and son-in-law had driven her
to that sad extremity. It was only before the Secretary of the
great brewer M. P. and Chairman of the Charity, who, acting for his
principal, felt bound to be conscientiously inquisitive as to the
The Secret Agent |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Buttered Side Down by Edna Ferber: doing in this burg if you don't like it."
"This thing ought to have slow music," began Gertie. "It's
pathetic. I came to Chicago from Beloit, Wisconsin, because I
thought that little town was a lonesome hole for a vivacious
creature like me. Lonesome! Listen while I laugh a low mirthless
laugh. I didn't know anything about the three-ply,
double-barreled, extra heavy brand of lonesomeness that a big town
like this can deal out. Talk about your desert wastes! They're
sociable and snug compared to this. I know three-fourths of the
people in Beloit, Wisconsin, by their first names. I've lived here
six months and I'm not on informal terms with anybody except Teddy,
Buttered Side Down |
