| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from My Aunt Margaret's Mirror by Walter Scott: Philip Forester went over to Flanders; but it was one of those in
which the campaign opened with extraordinary fury, and many
bloody, though indecisive, skirmishes were fought between the
French on the one side and the Allies on the other. In all our
modern improvements, there are none, perhaps, greater than in the
accuracy and speed with which intelligence is transmitted from
any scene of action to those in this country whom it may concern.
During Marlborough's campaigns, the sufferings of the many who
had relations in, or along with, the army were greatly augmented
by the suspense in which they were detained for weeks after they
had heard of bloody battles, in which, in all probability, those
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy: "It is useless to say that," his mother answered with an
impatient look of sorrow. "You don't know how bad it has
been here with us all these weeks, Clym. You don't know
what a mortification anything of that sort is to a woman.
You don't know the sleepless nights we've had in this house,
and the almost bitter words that have passed between us
since that Fifth of November. I hope never to pass seven
such weeks again. Tamsin has not gone outside the door,
and I have been ashamed to look anybody in the face;
and now you blame me for letting her do the only thing that
can be done to set that trouble straight."
Return of the Native |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Hidden Masterpiece by Honore de Balzac: hesitation of the boatman."
"Does the young fellow belong to you?" asked Porbus of the old man.
"Alas, maitre, forgive my boldness," said the neophyte, blushing. "I
am all unknown; only a dauber by instinct. I have just come to Paris,
that fountain of art and science."
"Let us see what you can do," said Porbus, giving him a red crayon and
a piece of paper.
The unknown copied the saint with an easy turn of his hand.
"Oh! oh!" exclaimed the old man, "what is your name?"
The youth signed the drawing: Nicolas Poussin.
"Not bad for a beginner," said the strange being who had discoursed so
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