| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Animal Farm by George Orwell: crept away in a body. They were shaken and miserable. They did not know
which was more shocking--the treachery of the animals who had leagued
themselves with Snowball, or the cruel retribution they had just
witnessed. In the old days there had often been scenes of bloodshed
equally terrible, but it seemed to all of them that it was far worse now
that it was happening among themselves. Since Jones had left the farm,
until today, no animal had killed another animal. Not even a rat had been
killed. They had made their way on to the little knoll where the
half-finished windmill stood, and with one accord they all lay down as
though huddling together for warmth--Clover, Muriel, Benjamin, the cows,
the sheep, and a whole flock of geese and hens--everyone, indeed, except
Animal Farm |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Malbone: An Oldport Romance by Thomas Wentworth Higginson: "Not Kate herself?" said Emilia, slyly.
"I?" said Kate. "What am I? A silly chit of a thing, with
about a dozen ideas in my head, nearly every one of which was
planted there by Hope. I like the nonsense of the world very
well as it is, and without her I should have cared for nothing
else. Count Posen asked me the other day, which country
produced on the whole the most womanly women, France or
America. He is one of the few foreigners who expect a rational
answer. So I told him that I knew very little of Frenchwomen
personally, but that I had read French novels ever since I was
born, and there was not a woman worthy to be compared with Hope
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Roads of Destiny by O. Henry: habits, simple and unconcealed. Generous, charitable, and a model in
propriety, was the verdict of all who knew him.
"What, now?" asked Robbins, fingering his empty notebook.
"/Cherchez la femme/," said Dumars, lighting a cigarette. "Try Lady
Bellairs."
This piece of femininity was the race-track favourite of the season.
Being feminine, she was erratic in her gaits, and there were a few
heavy losers about town who had believed she could be true. The
reporters applied for information.
Mr. Morin? Certainly not. He was never even a spectator at the races.
Not that kind of a man. Surprised the gentlemen should ask.
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