| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin by Benjamin Franklin: Should they even prove unsuccessful in all that a sanguine admirer
of yours hopes from them, you will at least have framed pieces
to interest the human mind; and whoever gives a feeling of pleasure
that is innocent to man, has added so much to the fair side of a life
otherwise too much darkened by anxiety and too much injured by pain.
In the hope, therefore, that you will listen to the prayer addressed
to you in this letter, I beg to subscribe myself, my dearest sir,
etc., etc.,
"Signed, BENJ. VAUGHAN."
Continuation of the Account of my Life, begun at Passy, near Paris, 1784.
It is some time since I receiv'd the above letters, but I have been
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from From London to Land's End by Daniel Defoe: in their order; but particularly the college in this city, which is
a noble foundation indeed. The building consists of two large
courts, in which are the lodgings for the masters and scholars, and
in the centre a very noble chapel; beyond that, in the second
court, are the schools, with a large cloister beyond them, and some
enclosures laid open for the diversion of the scholars. There also
is a great hall, where the scholars dine. The funds for the
support of this college are very considerable; the masters live in
a very good figure, and their maintenance is sufficient to support
it. They have all separate dwellings in the house, and all
possible conveniences appointed them.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf: her. "We"--that was enough. She knew from the effort, the rise in his
voice to surmount a difficult word that it was the first time he had
said "we." "We did this, we did that." They'll say that all their
lives, she thought, and an exquisite scent of olives and oil and juice
rose from the great brown dish as Marthe, with a little flourish, took
the cover off. The cook had spent three days over that dish. And she
must take great care, Mrs Ramsay thought, diving into the soft mass, to
choose a specially tender piece for William Bankes. And she peered into
the dish, with its shiny walls and its confusion of savoury brown and
yellow meats and its bay leaves and its wine, and thought, This will
celebrate the occasion--a curious sense rising in her, at once freakish
To the Lighthouse |
