| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Arrow of Gold by Joseph Conrad: Ortega. It was rather fascinating to see him so quiet at the end
of all that fury, clamour, passion, and uproar. Surely there was
never anything so still in the world as this Ortega. I had a
bizarre notion that he was not to be disturbed.
A noise like the rattling of chain links, a small grind and click
exploded in the stillness of the hall and a eciov began to swear in
Italian. These surprising sounds were quite welcome, they recalled
me to myself, and I perceived they came from the front door which
seemed pushed a little ajar. Was somebody trying to get in? I had
no objection, I went to the door and said: "Wait a moment, it's on
the chain." The deep voice on the other side said: "What an
The Arrow of Gold |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Woman of No Importance by Oscar Wilde: which. I regret it very much. She was made to be an ambassador's
wife.
LADY CAROLINE. She certainly has a wonderful faculty of
remembering people's names, and forgetting their faces.
LADY HUNSTANTON. Well, that is very natural, Caroline, is it not?
[To Footman.] Tell Henry to wait for an answer. I have written a
line to your dear mother, Gerald, to tell her your good news, and
to say she really must come to dinner.
[Exit Footman.]
GERALD. That is awfully kind of you, Lady Hunstanton. [To
HESTER.] Will you come for a stroll, Miss Worsley?
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Malbone: An Oldport Romance by Thomas Wentworth Higginson: apparent shallows were only vexatious. Emilia was usually
sweet, winning, cordial, and seemed ready to glide into one's
heart as softly as she glided into the room; she liked to
please, and found it very easy. Yet she left the impression
that this smooth and delicate loveliness went but an inch
beyond the surface, like the soft, thin foam that enamels
yonder tract of ocean, belongs to it, is a part of it, yet is,
after all, but a bequest of tempests, and covers only a dark
abyss of crossing currents and desolate tangles of rootless
kelp. Everybody was drawn to her, yet not a soul took any
comfort in her. Her very voice had in it a despairing
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