| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy: will--he've several acres of heth-ground broke up here,
besides the public house, and the heth-croppers, and his
manners be quite like a gentleman's. And what's done cannot
be undone."
"It cannot," said Mrs. Yeobright. "See, here's
the wagon-track at last. Now we shall get along better."
The wedding subject was no further dwelt upon;
and soon a faint diverging path was reached, where they
parted company, Olly first begging her companion to remind
Mr. Wildeve that he had not sent her sick husband the
bottle of wine promised on the occasion of his marriage.
 Return of the Native |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Confidence by Henry James: that fizzle up and go off, or that make you turn some dreadful
color if you look at them. I expect to hear a great clap some day,
and half an hour afterward to see Gordon brought home in several
hundred small pieces, put up in a dozen little bottles.
I got a horrid little stain in the middle of my dress that one
of the young men--the young savants--was so good as to drop there.
Did you see the young savants who work under Gordon's orders?
I thought they were too forlorn; there is n't one of them
you would look at. If you can believe it, there was n't
one of them that looked at me; they took no more notice of me
than if I had been the charwoman. They might have shown me
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Children of the Night by Edwin Arlington Robinson: But be that as it may; -- I only know
He talked of this and that and So-and-So,
And laughed and chaffed like any friend of mine.
But soon, with a queer, quick frown, he looked at me,
And I looked hard at him; and there we gazed
With a strained shame that made us cringe and wince:
Then, with a wordless clogged apology
That sounded half confused and half amazed,
He dodged, -- and I have never seen him since.
For a Book by Thomas Hardy
With searching feet, through dark circuitous ways,
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