| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Soul of a Bishop by H. G. Wells: you do one thing for me? Will you try to eat a little breakfast?
And stay here? I will go down to Mr. Whippham and arrange
whatever is urgent with him. Perhaps if you rest--There is
nothing really imperative until the confirmation in the
afternoon.... I do not understand all this. For some time--I
have felt it was going on. But of that we can talk. The thing now
is that people should not know, that nothing should be seen....
Suppose for instance that horrible White Blackbird were to hear
of it.... I implore you. If you rest here--And if I were to
send for that young doctor who attended Miriam."
"I don't want a doctor," said the bishop.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas: the mansion. On the evening of one of the warmest days
spring had yet bestowed on the inhabitants of Paris, might
be seen negligently thrown upon the stone bench, a book, a
parasol, and a work-basket, from which hung a partly
embroidered cambric handkerchief, while at a little distance
from these articles was a young woman, standing close to the
iron gate, endeavoring to discern something on the other
side by means of the openings in the planks, -- the
earnestness of her attitude and the fixed gaze with which
she seemed to seek the object of her wishes, proving how
much her feelings were interested in the matter. At that
The Count of Monte Cristo |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Dawn O'Hara, The Girl Who Laughed by Edna Ferber: re-hash."
All of which is most unwomanly; for is not marriage
woman's highest aim, and home her true sphere? Haven't
I tried both? I ought to know. I merely have been
miscast in this life's drama. My part should have been
that of one who makes her way alone. Peter, with his thin,
cruel lips, and his shaking hands, and his haggard face
and his smoldering eyes, is a shadow forever blotting out
the sunny places in my path. I was meant to be an old
maid, like the terrible old Kitty O'Hara. Not one of the
tatting-and-tea kind, but an impressive, bustling old
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