| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Tales of Unrest by Joseph Conrad: ever.
But upstairs in the drawing-room he became the victim of a restless
fate, that would, on no account, permit him to sit down. She had sunk
on a low easy-chair, and taking up from a small table at her elbow a
fan with ivory leaves, shaded her face from the fire. The coals glowed
without a flame; and upon the red glow the vertical bars of the grate
stood out at her feet, black and curved, like the charred ribs of a
consumed sacrifice. Far off, a lamp perched on a slim brass rod,
burned under a wide shade of crimson silk: the centre, within the
shadows of the large room, of a fiery twilight that had in the warm
quality of its tint something delicate, refined and infernal. His soft
Tales of Unrest |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from From the Earth to the Moon by Jules Verne: fireproof brick, were especially adapted for burning pit coal,
with a flat bottom upon which the iron bars were laid. This bottom,
inclined at an angle of 25 degrees, allowed the metal to flow into
the receiving troughs; and the 1,200 converging trenches carried
the molten metal down to the central well.
The day following that on which the works of the masonry and
boring had been completed, Barbicane set to work upon the
central mould. His object now was to raise within the center of
the well, and with a coincident axis, a cylinder 900 feet high,
and nine feet in diameter, which should exactly fill up the
space reserved for the bore of the Columbiad. This cylinder was
From the Earth to the Moon |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Ursula by Honore de Balzac: will tell you, snuffing the air while his eye gazes far into space,
"The 'Competition' is ahead."--"We can't get in sight of her," cries
the postilion; "the vixen! she wouldn't stop to let her passengers
dine."--"The question is, has she got any?" responds the conductor.
"Give it to Polignac!" All lazy and bad horses are called Polignac.
Such are the jokes and the basis of conversation between postilions
and conductors on the roofs of the coaches. Each profession, each
calling in France has its slang.
"Have you seen the 'Ducler'?" asked Minoret.
"Monsieur Desire?" said the postilion, interrupting his master. "Hay!
you must have heard us, didn't our whips tell you? we felt you were
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