| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens: in the crowd in Welbeck Street, last Friday.'
'A good man,' rejoined the secretary, 'a staunch, sincere, and
truly zealous man.'
'He should be encouraged,' said Lord George. 'Make a note of
Dennis. I'll talk with him.'
Gashford obeyed, and went on reading from his list:
'"The Friends of Reason, half-a-guinea. The Friends of Liberty,
half-a-guinea. The Friends of Peace, half-a-guinea. The Friends
of Charity, half-a-guinea. The Friends of Mercy, half-a-guinea.
The Associated Rememberers of Bloody Mary, half-a-guinea. The
United Bulldogs, half-a-guinea."'
Barnaby Rudge |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Long Odds by H. Rider Haggard: there, and now arose as though by magic. There he stood lashing his
tail, just like a living reproduction of the animal on the gateway of
Northumberland House that I have seen in a picture. But he did not
stand long. Before I could fire--before I could do more than get the
gun to my shoulder--he sprang straight up and out from the rock, and
driven by the impetus of that one mighty bound came hurtling through the
air towards me.
"Heavens! how grand he looked, and how awful! High into the air he
flew, describing a great arch. Just as he touched the highest point of
his spring I fired. I did not dare to wait, for I saw that he would
clear the whole space and land right upon me. Without a sight, almost
Long Odds |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Hidden Masterpiece by Honore de Balzac: reigned; she felt instinctively that the arts were forgotten for her
sake, and flung at her feet like grains of incense.
"Yet he is only an old man," resumed Poussin. "In you he would see
only a woman. You are the perfect woman whom he seeks."
"Love should grant all things!" she exclaimed, ready to sacrifice
love's scruples to reward the lover who thus seemed to sacrifice his
art to her. "And yet," she added, "it would be my ruin. Ah, to suffer
for thy good! Yes, it is glorious! But thou wilt forget me. How came
this cruel thought into thy mind?"
"It came there, and yet I love thee," he said, with a sort of
contrition. "Am I, then, a wretch?"
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