| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Dracula by Bram Stoker: and men for whom His Son die, will not be given over to monsters,
whose very existence would defame Him. He have allowed us to redeem
one soul already, and we go out as the old knights of the Cross
to redeem more. Like them we shall travel towards the sunrise.
And like them, if we fall, we fall in good cause."
He paused and I said, "But will not the Count take his rebuff wisely?
Since he has been driven from England, will he not avoid it, as a tiger
does the village from which he has been hunted?"
"Aha!" he said, "your simile of the tiger good, for me,
and I shall adopt him. Your maneater, as they of India call
the tiger who has once tasted blood of the human, care no more
Dracula |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from In a German Pension by Katherine Mansfield: Langen, and watch, perhaps, your little child playing with--" She turned
towards Karl, who had rooted an old illustrated paper out of the receptacle
and was spelling over an advertisement for the enlargement of Beautiful
Breasts.
The sentence remained unfinished. We decided to move on. As we plunged
more deeply into the wood our spirits rose--reaching a point where they
burst into song--on the part of the three men--"O Welt, wie bist du
wunderbar!"--the lower part of which was piercingly sustained by Herr
Langen, who attempted quite unsuccessfully to infuse satire into it in
accordance with his--"world outlook". They strode ahead and left us to
trail after them--hot and happy.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Eve and David by Honore de Balzac: against and grievously wronged. Though it is hard for the mind to
forget, though we still smart under the injury, the heart returns to
its allegiance in spite of all. Poor Eve listened to her brother's
confidences until breakfast-time; and whenever she looked at him she
was no longer mistress of her eyes; in that intimate talk she could
not control her voice. And with the comprehension of the conditions of
literary life in Paris, she understood that the struggle had been too
much for Lucien's strength. The poet's delight as he caressed his
sister's child, his deep grief over David's absence, mingled with joy
at seeing his country and his own folk again, the melancholy words
that he let fall,--all these things combined to make that day a
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