| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Bronte Sisters: that will not do; sometimes he endeavours to cheer him with talk
about old times, and this at one time may serve to divert the
sufferer from his own sad thoughts; at another, it will only plunge
him into deeper melancholy than before; and then Hattersley is
confounded, and knows not what to say, unless it be a timid
suggestion that the clergyman might be sent for. But Arthur will
never consent to that: he knows he has rejected the clergyman's
well-meant admonitions with scoffing levity at other times, and
cannot dream of turning to him for consolation now.
Mr. Hattersley sometimes offers his services instead of mine, but
Arthur will not let me go: that strange whim still increases, as
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Buttered Side Down by Edna Ferber: That's the thing that has haunted me day and night, till my nerves
are raw. The fear of doing it again. Don't laugh at me, will you?
I used to lie awake nights going over that cursed business of the
bank--over and over--till the cold sweat would break out all over
me. I used to figure it all out again, step by step, until--Jo,
could a man steal and not know it? Could thinking of a thing like
that drive a man crazy? Because if it could--if it
could--then----"
"I don't know," said Jo Haley, "but it sounds darned fishy."
He had a hand on Ted's shaking shoulder, and was looking into the
white, drawn face. "I had great plans for you, Ted. But Minnie
Buttered Side Down |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Woman of No Importance by Oscar Wilde: with me. . . . And you thought I didn't care for the pleasant
things of life. I tell you I longed for them, but did not dare to
touch them, feeling I had no right. You thought I was happier
working amongst the poor. That was my mission, you imagined. It
was not, but where else was I to go? The sick do not ask if the
hand that smooths their pillow is pure, nor the dying care if the
lips that touch their brow have known the kiss of sin. It was you
I thought of all the time; I gave to them the love you did not
need: lavished on them a love that was not theirs . . . And you
thought I spent too much of my time in going to Church, and in
Church duties. But where else could I turn? God's house is the
|
