| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald: was a quality of nervous despair in Daisy's letters. She didn't see why
he couldn't come. She was feeling the pressure of the world outside,
and she wanted to see him and feel his presence beside her and be
reassured that she was doing the right thing after all.
For Daisy was young and her artificial world was redolent of orchids
and pleasant, cheerful snobbery and orchestras which set the rhythm of
the year, summing up the sadness and suggestiveness of life in new
tunes. All night the saxophones wailed the hopeless comment of the
BEALE STREET BLUES. while a hundred pairs of golden and silver
slippers shuffled the shining dust. At the gray tea hour there were
always rooms that throbbed incessantly with this low, sweet fever,
The Great Gatsby |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Miracle Mongers and Their Methods by Harry Houdini: exerted is great enough, she directs the
two men to exert a vertical stress strong
enough to cause the stick to descend. They
then imagine that they are exerting a
VERTICAL stress, while in reality their
stresses are HORIZONTAL and tend to keep
the stick in a vertical position in order to
react against the pressure exerted at the
lower end of the stick.
There is evidently a certain vertical
component that tends to cause the stick to
Miracle Mongers and Their Methods |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Hidden Masterpiece by Honore de Balzac: debased as to lend his wife to dishonor? When you paint a picture for
the court you do not put your whole soul into it; you sell to
courtiers your tricked-out lay-figures. My painting is not a picture;
it is a sentiment, a passion! Born in my atelier, she must remain a
virgin there. She shall not leave it unclothed. Poesy and women give
themselves bare, like truth, to lovers only. Have we the model of
Raphael, the Angelica of Ariosto, the Beatrice of Dante? No, we see
but their semblance. Well, the work which I keep hidden behind bolts
and bars is an exception to all other art. It is not a canvas; it is a
woman,--a woman with whom I weep and laugh and think and talk. Would
you have me resign the joy of ten years, as I might throw away a worn-
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