| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Silas Marner by George Eliot: trembling a little, and seizing his drinking-can as a defensive
weapon.
"If it was you stole my money," said Silas, clasping his hands
entreatingly, and raising his voice to a cry, "give it me back--
and I won't meddle with you. I won't set the constable on you.
Give it me back, and I'll let you--I'll let you have a guinea."
"Me stole your money!" said Jem, angrily. "I'll pitch this can
at your eye if you talk o' _my_ stealing your money."
"Come, come, Master Marner," said the landlord, now rising
resolutely, and seizing Marner by the shoulder, "if you've got any
information to lay, speak it out sensible, and show as you're in
Silas Marner |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Nana, Miller's Daughter, Captain Burle, Death of Olivier Becaille by Emile Zola: became familiar and maternal, tapped her leg and asked for fun:
"You want me to wipe your nose; do you, baby?"
"Yes," replied the lad in a low, supplicating tone.
This answer made her merrier than ever. He was seventeen years old,
he said. His name was Georges Hugon. He was at the Varietes last
night and now he had come to see her.
"These flowers are for me?"
"Yes."
"Then give 'em to me, booby!"
But as she took the bouquet from him he sprang upon her hands and
kissed them with all the gluttonous eagerness peculiar to his
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Chita: A Memory of Last Island by Lafcadio Hearn: III.
On the Gulf side of these islands you may observe that the
trees--when there are any trees--all bend away from the sea; and,
even of bright, hot days when the wind sleeps, there is something
grotesquely pathetic in their look of agonized terror. A group
of oaks at Grande Isle I remember as especially suggestive: five
stooping silhouettes in line against the horizon, like fleeing
women with streaming garments and wind-blown hair,--bowing
grievously and thrusting out arms desperately northward as to
save themselves from falling. And they are being pursued
indeed;--for the sea is devouring the land. Many and many a mile
|
