| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Resurrection by Leo Tolstoy: mother, smiling at her daughter's winning tactlessness. "The
Prince is not at all interested."
"On the contrary, I am very much interested," said Nekhludoff,
touched by this overflowing, happy mother-love. "Please let me
see them."
"She's taking the Prince to see her babies," the General shouted,
laughing from the card-table, where he sat with his son-in-law,
the mine owner and the aide-de-camp. "Go, go, pay your tribute."
The young woman, visibly excited by the thought that judgment was
about to be passed on her children, went quickly towards the
inner apartments, followed by Nekhludoff. In the third, a lofty
Resurrection |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Young Forester by Zane Grey: "He's started!" I cried, in glee. "Go on, Cubby--down with you!"
Clumsy as he was, he made swift time. I was hard put to keep close to him.
I slipped down the trunk--holding on one instant and sliding down the next.
But below the fork it was harder for Cubby and easier for me. The branches
rather hindered his backward progress while they aided mine. Growling and
whining, with long claws ripping the bark, he went down. All of a sudden I
became aware of the old hunter threshing about under the tree.
"Hold on--not so fast!" he yelled.
Still the cub kept going, and stopped with his haunches on the first
branch. There, looking down, he saw an enemy below him, and hesitated. But
he looked up, and, seeing me, began to back down again. Hiram pounded the
The Young Forester |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Lily of the Valley by Honore de Balzac: that Lady Brandon has given me a message for you which allows of no
delay. I feared you had already started for Lancashire, but as you are
still in Paris I will await your orders at any hour you may be pleased
to appoint."
She bowed, and I left the room. Since that day I have only met her in
society, where we exchange a friendly bow, and occasionally a sarcasm.
I talk to her of the inconsolable women of Lancashire; she makes
allusion to Frenchwomen who dignify their gastric troubles by calling
them despair. Thanks to her, I have a mortal enemy in de Marsay, of
whom she is very fond. In return, I call her the wife of two
generations.
The Lily of the Valley |
