| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence: mechanism, and one has to be very wary, not to get mangled by it.
Connie confided in her father.
'You see, Father, he was Clifford's game-keeper: but he was an officer
in the army in India. Only he is like Colonel C. E. Florence, who
preferred to become a private soldier again.'
Sir Malcolm, however, had no sympathy with the unsatisfactory mysticism
of the famous C. E. Florence. He saw too much advertisement behind all
the humility. It looked just like the sort of conceit the knight most
loathed, the conceit of self-abasement.
'Where did your game-keeper spring from?' asked Sir Malcolm irritably.
'He was a collier's son in Tevershall. But he's absolutely
Lady Chatterley's Lover |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Twelve Stories and a Dream by H. G. Wells: the scholarly young man passed insensibly towards a deeper feeling.
The exuberant Fanny did her best to keep pace with their recondite
admiration by playing her "beautiful," with vigour, and saying "Oh!
LET'S go," with enormous appetite whenever a new place of interest
was mentioned. But Helen developed a certain want of sympathy
towards the end, that disappointed Miss Winchelsea a little. She
refused to "see anything" in the face of Beatrice Cenci--Shelley's
Beatrice Cenci!--in the Barberini gallery; and one day, when they
were deploring the electric trams, she said rather snappishly that
"people must get about somehow, and it's better than torturing
horses up these horrid little hills." She spoke of the Seven Hills
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Babbitt by Sinclair Lewis: collection--is growing, but a lot of humorous gossip and kidding: about how
some blowhard fell down on his pledge to get new members, or the good time the
Sacred Trinity class of girls had at their wieniewurst party. And on the
side, if he had time, the press-agent might even boost the lessons
themselves--do a little advertising for all the Sunday Schools in town, in
fact. No use being hoggish toward the rest of 'em, providing we can keep the
bulge on 'em in membership. Frinstance, he might get the papers to--Course I
haven't got a literary training like Frink here, and I'm just guessing how the
pieces ought to be written, but take frinstance, suppose the week's lesson is
about Jacob; well, the press-agent might get in something that would have a
fine moral, and yet with a trick headline that'd get folks to read it--say
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