| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Lily of the Valley by Honore de Balzac: him her place and left the room. The children, whose eyes were on
those of their mother as if they drew the light of theirs from hers,
tried to follow her; but she said, with a finger on her lips, "Stay
dears!" and they obeyed, but their eyes filled. Ah! to hear that one
word "dears" what tasks they would have undertaken!
Like the children, I felt less warm when she had left us. My name
seemed to change the count's feeling toward me. Cold and supercilious
in his first glance, he became at once, if not affectionate, at least
politely attentive, showing me every consideration and seeming pleased
to receive me as a guest. My father had formerly done devoted service
to the Bourbons, and had played an important and perilous, though
The Lily of the Valley |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Silas Marner by George Eliot: venerable tankards, would not have been suppressed as of unsound
tendency. But Christmas puddings, brawn, and abundance of
spirituous liquors, throwing the mental originality into the channel
of nightmare, are great preservatives against a dangerous
spontaneity of waking thought.
When the robbery was talked of at the Rainbow and elsewhere, in good
company, the balance continued to waver between the rational
explanation founded on the tinder-box, and the theory of an
impenetrable mystery that mocked investigation. The advocates of
the tinder-box-and-pedlar view considered the other side a
muddle-headed and credulous set, who, because they themselves were
Silas Marner |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Master of Ballantrae by Robert Louis Stevenson: it may be Nature that cries to be alone; and we grope in the dark.
Oh yes, I would leave him as he is."
"I will, then, despatch this letter, my lady, and return here, if
you please, to sit with you," said I.
"Pray do," cries my lady.
All afternoon we sat together, mostly in silence, watching my
lord's door. My own mind was busy with the scene that had just
passed, and its singular resemblance to my vision. I must say a
word upon this, for the story has gone abroad with great
exaggeration, and I have even seen it printed, and my own name
referred to for particulars. So much was the same: here was my
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