| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from My Aunt Margaret's Mirror by Walter Scott: instead of being stationary.
The representation of Sir Philip Forester, now distinctly visible
in form and feature, was seen to lead on towards the clergyman
that beautiful girl, who advanced at once with diffidence and
with a species of affectionate pride. In the meantime, and just
as the clergyman had arranged the bridal company before him, and
seemed about to commence the service, another group of persons,
of whom two or three were officers, entered the church. They
moved, at first, forward, as though they came to witness the
bridal ceremony; but suddenly one of the officers, whose back was
towards the spectators, detached himself from his companions, and
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Adventure by Jack London: an individual as himself and just as much a free agent. Really,
you know, I think you are improving."
She laughed and rode away, leaving him greatly cast down. If he
had thought there had been one bit of coyness in her words, one
feminine flutter, one womanly attempt at deliberate lure and
encouragement, he would have been elated. But he knew absolutely
that it was the boy, and not the woman, who had so daringly spoken.
Joan rode on among the avenues of young cocoanut-palms, saw a
hornbill, followed it in its erratic flights to the high forest on
the edge of the plantation, heard the cooing of wild pigeons and
located them in the deeper woods, followed the fresh trail of a
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Sylvie and Bruno by Lewis Carroll: caught the word and turned to listen.
"To each his sufferings, all are men," he replied in the sweet sad
tones that seemed natural to him: "each has his pet aversion."
"But you'll never guess his!" Lady Muriel said, with that delicate
silvery laugh that was music to my ears.
I declined to attempt the impossible.
"He doesn't like snakes!" she said, in a stage whisper. "Now, isn't
that an unreasonable aversion? Fancy not liking such a dear, coaxingly,
clingingly affectionate creature as a snake!"
"Not like snakes!" I exclaimed. "Is such a thing possible?"
"No, he doesn't like them," she repeated with a pretty mock-gravity.
Sylvie and Bruno |
