| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Collection of Beatrix Potter by Beatrix Potter: alighted opposite the house of
the bushy long-tailed gentleman.
HE was sitting on a log;
he sniffed the air, and
kept glancing uneasily round
the wood. When Jemima
alighted he quite jumped.
"Come into the house as
soon as you have looked at
your eggs. Give me the herbs
for the omelette. Be sharp!"
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Mirror of the Sea by Joseph Conrad: its torn cloud-mantle in inky-black squalls, with hail and sleet
descending like showers of crystals and pearls, bounding off the
spars, drumming on the sails, pattering on the oilskin coats,
whitening the decks of homeward-bound ships. Faint, ruddy flashes
of lightning flicker in the starlight upon her mastheads. A chilly
blast hums in the taut rigging, causing the ship to tremble to her
very keel, and the soaked men on her decks to shiver in their wet
clothes to the very marrow of their bones. Before one squall has
flown over to sink in the eastern board, the edge of another peeps
up already above the western horizon, racing up swift, shapeless,
like a black bag full of frozen water ready to burst over your
 The Mirror of the Sea |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from An Ideal Husband by Oscar Wilde: trusted him, that I had need of him, that I was coming to him for
help and advice. [SIR ROBERT CHILTERN takes the letter out of his
pocket.] Yes, that letter. I didn't go to Lord Goring's, after all.
I felt that it is from ourselves alone that help can come. Pride
made me think that. Mrs. Cheveley went. She stole my letter and
sent it anonymously to you this morning, that you should think . . .
Oh! Robert, I cannot tell you what she wished you to think. . . .
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What! Had I fallen so low in your eyes that
you thought that even for a moment I could have doubted your
goodness? Gertrude, Gertrude, you are to me the white image of all
good things, and sin can never touch you. Arthur, you can go to
|