| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Tramp Abroad by Mark Twain: dropped everything and came. The two sat side by side
on the limb and discussed me as freely and offensively
as two great naturalists might discuss a new kind of bug.
The thing became more and more embarrassing. They called
in another friend. This was too much. I saw that they
had the advantage of me, and so I concluded to get out
of the scrape by walking out of it. They enjoyed my
defeat as much as any low white people could have done.
They craned their necks and laughed at me (for a raven
CAN laugh, just like a man), they squalled insulting remarks
after me as long as they could see me. They were nothing
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Moby Dick by Herman Melville: could not possibly fly his howlings; all comfort, sleep itself,
inestimable reason would leave me on the long intolerable voyage.
What, then, remains? The land is hundreds of leagues away, and
locked Japan the nearest. I stand alone here upon an open sea, with
two oceans and a whole continent between me and law.--Aye, aye, 'tis
so.--Is heaven a murderer when its lightning strikes a would-be
murderer in his bed, tindering sheets and skin together?--And would I
be a murderer, then, if"--and slowly, stealthily, and half sideways
looking, he placed the loaded musket's end against the door.
"On this level, Ahab's hammock swings within; his head this way. A
touch, and Starbuck may survive to hug his wife and child again.--Oh
 Moby Dick |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Personal Record by Joseph Conrad: is more of a personal matter, reaching the man behind the work,
and therefore it may be alluded to in a volume which is a
personal note in the margin of the public page. Not that I feel
hurt in the least. The charge--if it amounted to a charge at
all--was made in the most considerate terms; in a tone of regret.
My answer is that if it be true that every novel contains an
element of autobiography--and this can hardly be denied, since
the creator can only express himself in his creation--then there
are some of us to whom an open display of sentiment is repugnant.
I would not unduly praise the virtue of restraint. It is often
merely temperamental. But it is not always a sign of coldness.
 A Personal Record |