| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Seraphita by Honore de Balzac: Can you conceive of a God who shall be neither independent of nor
dependent on His work? Could He destroy that work without challenging
Himself? Ask yourself, and decide! Whether He destroys it some day, or
whether He never destroys it, either way is fatal to the attributes
without which God cannot exist. Is the world an experiment? is it a
perishable form to which destruction must come? If it is, is not God
inconsistent and impotent? inconsistent, because He ought to have seen
the result before the attempt,--moreover why should He delay to
destroy that which He is to destroy?--impotent, for how else could He
have created an imperfect man?
"If an imperfect creation contradicts the faculties which man
Seraphita |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Red Seal by Natalie Sumner Lincoln: been burning - Rochester must have been there just before me."
"It would seem that Rochester is still in the city," remarked Clymer.
"Do you know, Kent, whether he had his office keys with him?"
"I presume so," Kent slipped his hand inside his pocket and took
out a bunch of keys. "He left these duplicates in his desk at the
office."
"Sure they are duplicates?" questioned Ferguson, and Kent flushed.
"I know they are," he retorted. "Rochester had them made over a
year ago as a matter of convenience, for he was always forgetting
his keys, and kept these at our office."
"He's a queer cuss," was the detective's only comment and Clymer
The Red Seal |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf: ruthless youngsters, must require. As for being sure which was which, or
in what order they came, that was beyond him. He called them privately
after the Kings and Queens of England; Cam the Wicked, James the Ruthless,
Andrew the Just, Prue the Fair--for Prue would have beauty, he thought,
how could she help it?--and Andrew brains. While he walked up the drive
and Lily Briscoe said yes and no and capped his comments (for she was in
love with them all, in love with this world) he weighed Ramsay's case,
commiserated him, envied him, as if he had seen him divest himself of all
those glories of isolation and austerity which crowned him in youth to
cumber himself definitely with fluttering wings and clucking
domesticities. They gave him something--William Bankes acknowledged that;
To the Lighthouse |
