Pastiche of Passage 1:
. . . At such a time I found out for certain, that the new bright place blossoming with flower buds was the churchyard; and that Philip Pirrip, new to this parish, and also Georgiana wife of the new member, were alive and dancing; and that Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobias, and Roger, infant children of the two new members, were also frolicking and relishing in life’s delight; and that the green rolling fields beyond the churchyard, met with the sun and clouds and horizon, the fields and sky became one, with birds singing, was the meadow; and that the vast distance the bridge from earth to sky, was the ocean; and that the warm glow which enveloped individuals all around was the sun; and that the laughter deepening and warmth growing, filling the field with life, was the Pirrips.
Pastiche of Passage 2:
A sad woman, all in navy blue, shackled by bags of books on her shoulders. A woman with a designer bag, and with silver rings, and with her brown hair swept back in a low ponytail. A woman who had been drowned in papers, and pestered by marks, and saddened by her work schedule, and blistered by her new shoes, and flustered by timetables, and guilted by friends; who hunched, and sat, and stared and wined; and whose eyes glazed over glazed over as the teacher began to speak.