| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Mirror of the Sea by Joseph Conrad: eye of the policeman at the gates could reach, there was hardly one
that knew of any other port amongst all the ports on the wide earth
but London and Sydney, or London and Melbourne, or London and
Adelaide, perhaps with Hobart Town added for those of smaller
tonnage. One could almost have believed, as her gray-whiskered
second mate used to say of the old Duke of S-, that they knew the
road to the Antipodes better than their own skippers, who, year in,
year out, took them from London - the place of captivity - to some
Australian port where, twenty-five years ago, though moored well
and tight enough to the wooden wharves, they felt themselves no
captives, but honoured guests.
The Mirror of the Sea |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Secrets of the Princesse de Cadignan by Honore de Balzac: her mother very well knew, she enjoyed the utmost liberty. The duke,
after obtaining the unexpected happiness of an heir, left his wife
entirely to her own devices, and went off to amuse himself in the
various garrisons of France, returning occasionally to Paris, where he
made debts which his father paid. He professed the most entire
conjugal indulgence, always giving the duchess a week's warning of his
return; he was adored by his regiment, beloved by the Dauphin, an
adroit courtier, somewhat of a gambler, and totally devoid of
affectation. Having succeeded to his father's office as governor of
one of the royal domains, he managed to please the two kings, Louis
XVIII. and Charles X., which proves he made the most of his nonentity;
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Bab:A Sub-Deb, Mary Roberts Rinehart by Mary Roberts Rinehart: most awfully like chicken pocks or somthing."
So I did, considering that it was only Politeness, and he took it
and said:
"Don't jerk! It is nice and warm and soft, but not feverish. What's
that lump?"
"It's a blister," I said. And as the others were now complaining
about the soup, I told him of the Corps, etcetera, thinking that
perhaps it would rouse him to some patriotic feelings. But no, it
did not.
"Now look here," he said, turning and frowning at me, "Aviation
Corps means flying. Just remember this,--if I hear of your trying
|
