| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Deserted Woman by Honore de Balzac: to you when there is nothing to keep us apart, when a caress so
often takes the place of words, and words too are caresses? Ah,
well, no, love. There are some things that a woman cannot say when
she is face to face with the man she loves; at the bare thought of
them her voice fails her, and the blood goes back to her heart;
she has no strength, no intelligence left. It hurts me to feel
like this when you are near me, and it happens often. I feel that
my heart should be wholly sincere for you; that I should disguise
no thought, however transient, in my heart; and I love the sweet
carelessness, which suits me so well, too much to endure this
embarrassment and constraint any longer. So I will tell you about
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Bride of Lammermoor by Walter Scott: sturdily did Caleb roar till the old tower rang again: "John--
William--Saunders! The lads are gane out, or sleeping," he
observed, after pausing for an answer, which he knew that he had
no human chance of receiving. "A' gaes wrang when the Master's
out-bye; but I'll take care o' your cattle mysell."
"I think you had better," said Ravenswood, "otherwise I see
little chance of their being attended to at all."
"Whisht, my lord--whisht, for God's sake," said Caleb, in an
imploring tone, and apart to his master; "if ye dinna regard your
ain credit, think on mine; we'll hae hard eneugh wark to make a
decent night o't, wi' a' the lees I can tell."
The Bride of Lammermoor |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Lord Arthur Savile's Crime, etc. by Oscar Wilde: letter again! But what shall I say about the clock? I think it is
a capital invention, and I should like to have one myself.'
'I don't think much of them,' said Lord Arthur, with a sad smile,
and, after kissing his mother, he left the room.
When he got upstairs, he flung himself on a sofa, and his eyes
filled with tears. He had done his best to commit this murder, but
on both occasions he had failed, and through no fault of his own.
He had tried to do his duty, but it seemed as if Destiny herself
had turned traitor. He was oppressed with the sense of the
barrenness of good intentions, of the futility of trying to be
fine. Perhaps, it would be better to break off the marriage
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