| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Rewards and Fairies by Rudyard Kipling: hens is in the way o' nature to these fools, Mosheur; but anything
likely to do 'em real service is devil's work by their estimation. If I
was you, I'd go home before they come." Jerry spoke quite
quietly, and Rene shrugged his shoulders.
'"I am prisoner on parole, Monsieur Gamm," he said. "I have
no home."
'Now that was unkind of Rene. He's often told me that he
looked on England as his home. I suppose it's French politeness.
'"Then we'll talk o' something that matters," said Jerry. "Not
to name no names, Mosheur Lanark, what might be your own
opinion o' some one who ain't old Gaffer Macklin nor young
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Dead Souls by Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol: me to be ruler of an earthly paradise, did I prefer to bind myself in
servitude as a scribe of lifeless documents? To think that, after I
had been nurtured and schooled and stored with all the knowledge
necessary for the diffusion of good among those under me, and for the
improvement of my domain, and for the fulfilment of the manifold
duties of a landowner who is at once judge, administrator, and
constable of his people, I should have entrusted my estate to an
ignorant bailiff, and sought to maintain an absentee guardianship over
the affairs of serfs whom I have never met, and of whose capabilities
and characters I am yet ignorant! To think that I should have deemed
true estate-management inferior to a documentary, fantastical
Dead Souls |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Life in the Iron-Mills by Rebecca Davis: a furnace. He had not time to eat his supper; so she went
behind the furnace, and waited. Only a few men were with him,
and they noticed her only by a "Hyur comes t'hunchback, Wolfe."
Deborah was stupid with sleep; her back pained her sharply; and
her teeth chattered with cold, with the rain that soaked her
clothes and dripped from her at every step. She stood, however,
patiently holding the pail, and waiting.
"Hout, woman! ye look like a drowned cat. Come near to the
fire,"--said one of the men, approaching to scrape away the
ashes.
She shook her head. Wolfe had forgotten her. He turned,
Life in the Iron-Mills |
