| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Buttered Side Down by Edna Ferber: same, year in, and year out, something after this fashion:
Item: One anemic little milliner's apprentice in coat and
shoes that even her hat can't redeem.
Item: One sandy-haired, gritty-complexioned man, with a
drooping ragged mustache, a tin dinner bucket, and lime on his
boots.
Item: One thin mail carrier with an empty mail sack, gaunt
cheeks, and an habitual droop to his left shoulder.
Item: One errand boy troubled with a chronic sniffle, a
shrill and piping whistle, and a great deal of shuffling foot-work.
Item: One negro wearing a spotted tan topcoat, frayed
Buttered Side Down |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from She Stoops to Conquer by Oliver Goldsmith: to be delighted with your agreeable wild notes, unfeeling monster!
TONY. Ecod! mamma, your own notes are the wildest of the two.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Was ever the like? But I see he wants to break my
heart, I see he does.
HASTINGS. Dear madam, permit me to lecture the young gentleman a
little. I'm certain I can persuade him to his duty.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Well, I must retire. Come, Constance, my love. You
see, Mr. Hastings, the wretchedness of my situation: was ever poor
woman so plagued with a dear sweet, pretty, provoking, undutiful boy?
[Exeunt MRS. HARDCASTLE and MISS NEVILLE.]
TONY. (Singing.) "There was a young man riding by, and fain would
She Stoops to Conquer |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence: anxiously for him to go, and he seemed to have nothing whatever to say.
Nothing left.
Connie went slowly home, realizing the depth of the other thing in her.
Another self was alive in her, burning molten and soft in her womb and
bowels, and with this self she adored him. She adored him till her
knees were weak as she walked. In her womb and bowels she was flowing
and alive now and vulnerable, and helpless in adoration of him as the
most naive woman. It feels like a child, she said to herself it feels
like a child in me. And so it did, as if her womb, that had always been
shut, had opened and filled with new life, almost a burden, yet lovely.
'If I had a child!' she thought to herself; 'if I had him inside me as
Lady Chatterley's Lover |
