| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Main Street by Sinclair Lewis: these towns from trains on this same line. He grumbled,
"Why, what's the matter with 'em? Good hustling burgs. It
would astonish you to know how much wheat and rye and
corn and potatoes they ship in a year."
"But they're so ugly."
"I'll admit they aren't comfy like Gopher Prairie. But
give 'em time."
"What's the use of giving them time unless some one has
desire and training enough to plan them? Hundreds of factories
trying to make attractive motor cars, but these towns--
left to chance. No! That can't be true. It must have taken
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The United States Bill of Rights: nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law;
nor shall private property be taken for public use without just compensation.
VI
In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a
speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district
wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have
been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature
and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him;
to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor,
and to have the assistance of counsel for his defense.
VII
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Some Reminiscences by Joseph Conrad: regard for honesty, even if practised upon one's own vile body.
But it is very obvious that an enemy of that sort will not be
stayed by explanations or placated by apologies. Were I to
advance the plea of youth in excuse of the naiveness to be found
in these pages, he would be likely to say "Bosh!" in a column and
a half of fierce print. Yet a writer is no older than his first
published book, and, notwithstanding the vain appearances of
decay which attend us in this transitory life, I stand here with
the wreath of only fifteen short summers on my brow.
With the remark, then, that at such tender age some naiveness of
feeling and expression is excusable, I proceed to admit that,
Some Reminiscences |
