| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Arrow of Gold by Joseph Conrad: my breath knocked out of me. It was a tumultuous awakening. The
day had come. Dona Rita had opened her eyes, found herself in my
arms, and instantly had flung herself out of them with one sudden
effort. I saw her already standing in the filtered sunshine of the
closed shutters, with all the childlike horror and shame of that
night vibrating afresh in the awakened body of the woman.
"Daylight," she whispered in an appalled voice. "Don't look at me,
George. I can't face daylight. No - not with you. Before we set
eyes on each other all that past was like nothing. I had crushed
it all in my new pride. Nothing could touch the Rita whose hand
was kissed by you. But now! Never in daylight."
The Arrow of Gold |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Little Britain by Washington Irving: that quiet and simplicity might be again restored to the
community. But unluckily a rival power arose. An opulent
oilman died, and left a widow with a large jointure and a family
of buxom daughters. The young ladies had long been repining
in secret at the parsimony of a prudent father, which kept down
all their elegant aspirings. Their ambition, being now no longer
restrained, broke out into a blaze, and they openly took the
field against the family of the butcher. It is true that the
Lambs, having had the first start, had naturally an advantage of
them in the fashionable career. They could speak a little bad
French, play the piano, dance quadrilles, and had formed high
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Travels with a Donkey in the Cevenne by Robert Louis Stevenson: time I simply collared the mother, who was nearest me, and,
apologising for my violence, declared that I could not let them go
until they had put me on my road. They were neither of them
offended - rather mollified than otherwise; told me I had only to
follow them; and then the mother asked me what I wanted by the lake
at such an hour. I replied, in the Scottish manner, by inquiring
if she had far to go herself. She told me, with another oath, that
she had an hour and a half's road before her. And then, without
salutation, the pair strode forward again up the hillside in the
gathering dusk.
I returned for Modestine, pushed her briskly forward, and, after a
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