| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Woman of No Importance by Oscar Wilde: has all the qualifications I had hoped for. He has more, in fact,
than I had even thought of. Far more. [MRS. ARBUTHNOT remains
silent.] Have you any other reason, Mrs. Arbuthnot, why you don't
wish your son to accept this post?
GERALD. Have you, mother? Do answer.
LORD ILLINGWORTH. If you have, Mrs. Arbuthnot, pray, pray say it.
We are quite by ourselves here. Whatever it is, I need not say I
will not repeat it.
GERALD. Mother?
LORD ILLINGWORTH. If you would like to be alone with your son, I
will leave you. You may have some other reason you don't wish me
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Life of the Spider by J. Henri Fabre: a yielding felt, through which the new-born Spiders will easily
work their way, without the aid of the mother, long since dead, and
without having to rely upon its bursting at the given hour. It is
about the size of a damson.
We can judge the method of manufacture from the structure. Like
the Lycosa, whom we saw, in Chapter III., at work in one of my
earthenware pans, the Cross Spider, on the support supplied by a
few threads stretched between the nearest objects, begins by making
a shallow saucer of sufficient thickness to dispense with
subsequent corrections. The process is easily guessed. The tip of
the abdomen goes up and down, down and up with an even beat, while
The Life of the Spider |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Catriona by Robert Louis Stevenson: to find out that women-folk are nae grenadiers. But that can never be.
To your last day you'll ken no more of women-folk than what I do of
sow-gelding."
I had never been used with such expressions from a lady's tongue, the
only two ladies I had known, Mrs. Campbell and my mother, being most
devout and most particular women; and I suppose my amazement must have
been depicted in my countenance, for Mrs. Ogilvy burst forth suddenly
in a fit of laughter.
"Keep me!" she cried, struggling with her mirth, "you have the finest
timber face - and you to marry the daughter of a Hieland cateran!
Davie, my dear, I think we'll have to make a match of it - if it was
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