| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Adam Bede by George Eliot: tumbles down--and not then, on'y wi' begging and praying and
having to pay half--and being strung up wi' the rent as it's much
if he gets enough out o' the land to pay, for all he's put his own
money into the ground beforehand. See if you'll get a stranger to
lead such a life here as that: a maggot must be born i' the rotten
cheese to like it, I reckon. You may run away from my words,
sir," continued Mrs. Poyser, following the old squire beyond the
door--for after the first moments of stunned surprise he had got
up, and, waving his hand towards her with a smile, had walked out
towards his pony. But it was impossible for him to get away
immediately, for John was walking the pony up and down the yard,
Adam Bede |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Lock and Key Library by Julian Hawthorne, Ed.: also the light from the gas lamps in the deserted slumberous
street. I turned to look back into the room; the moon penetrated
its shadow very palely and partially--but still there was light.
The dark Thing, whatever it might be, was gone,--except that I
could yet see a dim shadow, which seemed the shadow of that shade,
against the opposite wall.
My eye now rested on the table, and from under the table (which was
without cloth or cover,--an old mahogany round table) there rose a
hand, visible as far as the wrist. It was a hand, seemingly, as
much of flesh and blood as my own, but the hand of an aged person,
lean, wrinkled, small too,--a woman's hand. That hand very softly
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy: 13.
The cottage which Michael Henchard hired for his wife Susan
under her name of Newson--in pursuance of their plan--was in
the upper or western part of the town, near the Roman wall,
and the avenue which overshadowed it. The evening sun seemed
to shine more yellowly there than anywhere else this autumn--
stretching its rays, as the hours grew later, under the
lowest sycamore boughs, and steeping the ground-floor of the
dwelling, with its green shutters, in a substratum of
radiance which the foliage screened from the upper parts.
Beneath these sycamores on the town walls could be seen from
The Mayor of Casterbridge |
