| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin by Robert Louis Stevenson: school - Dictation and Recitation; (3) For boys taught exclusively
by their mothers - Arithmetic and Reading.' Prizes were given; but
what prize would be so conciliatory as this boyish little joke? It
may read thin here; it would smack racily in the playroom.
Whenever his sons 'started a new fad' (as one of them writes to me)
they 'had only to tell him about it, and he was at once interested
and keen to help.' He would discourage them in nothing unless it
was hopelessly too hard for them; only, if there was any principle
of science involved, they must understand the principle; and
whatever was attempted, that was to be done thoroughly. If it was
but play, if it was but a puppetshow they were to build, he set
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Island Nights' Entertainments by Robert Louis Stevenson: Then Keawe, because he felt the truth of what she said, grew the
more angry. "Heighty-teighty!" cried he. "You may be filled with
melancholy if you please. It is not the mind of a good wife. If
you thought at all of me, you would sit shamed."
Thereupon he went out, and Kokua was alone.
What chance had she to sell that bottle at two centimes? None, she
perceived. And if she had any, here was her husband hurrying her
away to a country where there was nothing lower than a cent. And
here - on the morrow of her sacrifice - was her husband leaving her
and blaming her.
She would not even try to profit by what time she had, but sat in
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Letters of Two Brides by Honore de Balzac: arrived. The coolness which Louise's second marriage had caused
between herself and her family disappeared. Every day since that
evening, Louise's father and both her brothers have ridden over in the
morning, and the two duchesses spend all their evenings at the chalet.
Death unites as well as separates; it silences all paltry feeling.
Louise is perfection in her charm, her grace, her good sense, her wit,
and her tenderness. She has retained to the last that perfect tact for
which she has been so famous, and she lavishes on us the treasures of
her brilliant mind, which made her one of the queens of Paris.
"I should like to look well even in my coffin," she said with her
matchless smile, as she lay down on the bed where she was to linger
|
