| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Voyage Out by Virginia Woolf: sprang here and there, leaving jagged intervals of light between them
as distinctly as if it had but that second risen from the ground.
Having seen a sight that would last her for a lifetime, and for
a lifetime would preserve that second, the tree once more sank
into the ordinary ranks of trees, and she was able to seat herself
in its shade and to pick the red flowers with the thin green
leaves which were growing beneath it. She laid them side by side,
flower to flower and stalk to stalk, caressing them for walking alone.
Flowers and even pebbles in the earth had their own life and disposition,
and brought back the feelings of a child to whom they were companions.
Looking up, her eye was caught by the line of the mountains flying
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Market-Place by Harold Frederic: "His Lordship will be down, sir, in ten minutes--and he
hopes you'll be ready, sir," the valet said.
"Send Pangbourn to this gentleman's room," Miss Winnie
bade him, and with a gesture of comprehensive submission
he went away.
The calm readiness with which she had provided a solution
for his difficulties impressed Thorpe greatly.
It would never have occurred to him that Pangbourn
was the answer to the problem of his clothes, yet how
obvious it had been to her. These old families did
something more than fill their houses with servants;
The Market-Place |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Maitre Cornelius by Honore de Balzac: remark in towns where the hammer of the iconoclast has not yet
prevailed. The bays, which had little depth, gave a great power of
resistance to the iron shutters of the windows and doors. The riots
and the civil wars so frequent in those tumultuous times were ample
justification for these precautions.
As six o'clock was striking from the great tower of the Abbey Saint-
Martin, the lover of the hapless countess passed in front of the hotel
de Poitiers and paused for a moment to listen to the sounds made in
the lower hall by the servants of the count, who were supping. Casting
a glance at the window of the room where he supposed his love to be,
he continued his way to the adjoining house. All along his way, the
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