FROM

From a tattered sky
From a sky without wind
From a medicine-bottle
From an oppressive reality
From her
From her thin nose
From his buggy to the post-office window
From his farm
From his pocket
From his business
From his boots
From its six months’ siege
From the stockier foreign breed
From the pale skies
From the same informant
From the inflection of his voice
From the porch
From the sleigh
From the lower openings
From the pure and frosty darkness
From the girl’s face
From the first day
From the train
From the bed behind him
From the whiteness of the pillow
From the throng about the shed
From the first
From the cutter
From the village
From the hills to Connecticut
From the sale of her piano
From the stove
From the banks of snow
From these hints
From where he stood
From within
From sun-up to dark
From hand to hand
From ear to chin
From side to side
From various people
From early morning
From experience


Take all incidents of the word “from” in the first three chapters of Ethan Frome and then rearrange them according to the alphabetic nature of their grammatical constructions—a, his, her, this—but maintaining chronological order within groups. Excise all incidents featuring proper names or places, except where Connecticut is mentioned.

AS

straight as a plumb-line
just as I come around the corner
yellow as gold
she same as gave you her word
hot as it is
he does not look in as he passes the door
as though they had been hacked with a blunt axe out of pig-iron
a glittering maze of hooves as by illusion
I mislike undecision as much
as though he is not listening
quick as mules
they sound as if they were speaking out of the air
like as not
like as not
a fish nigh as long as he is
just as I get up
I can stand here and same as see it with second-sight
much as I can get my mind on anything
well and hale as ere
I could eat God’s own victuals as a man should
as for ere a sparrow that falls
bloody as a hog
the road vanishes beneath the wagon as though it were a ribbon
as if it had never been there
she watches the boy as he leaves
same as writing
as if her eyes alone are listening
as though the stroking of the saw illumined its own motion
without so much as glancing
as if he had by some means fleshed his own teeth
heavy as lead
collapsing slowly as he works
fading into dusk as though darkness were a precursor of the ultimate earth
lightly as the reflection of a dead leaf
as though they doubted yet
his hand awkward as a claw
as soon
as they rear and plunge
it is as though the dark is resolving him


Take all incidents of the word “as” in the first thirty pages of As I Lay Dying. Maintain chronological arrangement, but determine the size of the incident based on its ability to extend the logic of its antecedent.