| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Letters from England by Elizabeth Davis Bancroft: Russia thundering down upon Liberal Europe. . . . Our whole
Diplomatic Corps are certainly "in a fix," and we are really the
only members of it who have any reason to be quite at ease. Two or
three have been called home to be Ministers of Foreign Affairs, as
they have learned something of constitutional liberty in England.
England is, as yet, all quiet, and I hope will keep so, but the
Chartists are at work and Ireland is full of inflammable matter.
But England does love her institutions, and is justly proud of their
comparative freedom, and long may she enjoy them. . . . On Sunday
Mr. Emerson dined with us with Lady Morgan and Mrs. Jameson--the
authoress. On Monday I took him to a little party at Lady Morgan's.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Far From the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy: man of contrite knees-iet it be! l know that I always
do say "Please God" afore I do anything, from my
getting up to my going down of the same, and I be
willing to take as much disgrace as there is in that
holy act. Hah, yes! ... But not a man of spirit?
Have I ever allowed the toe of pride to be lifted
against my hinder parts without groaning manfully that
I question the right to do so? I inquire that query
boldly?"
"We can't say that you have, Hero Poorgrass,"
admitted Jan.
Far From the Madding Crowd |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Soul of the Far East by Percival Lowell: foregoing his own self? Nay, do we not cling even to its outward
appearance? Is there a man so poor in all that man holds dear that
he does not keenly resent being accidentally mistaken for his
neighbor? Surely there must be something more than mirage in this
deep-implanted, widespread instinct of human race.
But however strong the conviction now of one's individuality, is
there aught to assure him of its continuance beyond the confines of
its present life? Will it awake on death's morrow and know itself,
or will it, like the body that gave it lodgment, disintegrate again
into indistinguishable spirit dust? Close upon the heels of the
existing consciousness of self treads the shadow-like doubt of its
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