| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne: thought flashed across my mind that I should be wet through!
By the water! in the midst of the water! I could not help
laughing at the odd idea. But, indeed, in the thick diving-dress,
the liquid element is no longer felt, and one only seems to be
in an atmosphere somewhat denser than the terrestrial atmosphere.
Nothing more.
After half an hour's walk the soil became stony.
Medusae, microscopic crustacea, and pennatules lit it slightly
with their phosphorescent gleam. I caught a glimpse of pieces
of stone covered with millions of zoophytes and masses of sea weed.
My feet often slipped upon this sticky carpet of sea weed,
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Soul of the Far East by Percival Lowell: for time. Objects that exist together can be joined in speech,
but it is not allowable thus to connect consecutive events.
"Having dressed, came" is the Japanese idiom. To speak otherwise
would be to violate the unities. For a Japanese sentence is a
single rounded whole, not a bunch of facts loosely tied together.
It is as much a unit in its composition as a novel or a drama is
with us. Such artistic periods, however, are anything but
convenient. In their nicely contrived involution they strikingly
resemble those curious nests of Chinese boxes, where entire shells
lie closely packed one within another,--a very marvel of ingenious
and perfectly unnecessary construction. One must be antipodally
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Agnes Grey by Anne Bronte: done with this nonsense: you have no ground for hope: dismiss, at
once, these hurtful thoughts and foolish wishes from your mind, and
turn to your own duty, and the dull blank life that lies before
you. You might have known such happiness was not for you.'
But I saw him at last. He came suddenly upon me as I was crossing
a field in returning from a visit to Nancy Brown, which I had taken
the opportunity of paying while Matilda Murray was riding her
matchless mare. He must have heard of the heavy loss I had
sustained: he expressed no sympathy, offered no condolence: but
almost the first words he uttered were, - 'How is your mother?'
And this was no matter-of -course question, for I never told him
Agnes Grey |
