| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from In the South Seas by Robert Louis Stevenson: rudely ignorant, at first could only buzz, and had only learned of
late to bear a part correctly in the music.
The performances of the Whistlers are more business-like. Their
meetings are held publicly with open doors, all being 'cordially
invited to attend.' The faithful sit about the room - according to
one informant, singing hymns; according to another, now singing and
now whistling; the leader, the wizard - let me rather say, the
medium - sits in the midst, enveloped in a sheet and silent; and
presently, from just above his head, or sometimes from the midst of
the roof, an aerial whistling proceeds, appalling to the
inexperienced. This, it appears, is the language of the dead; its
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe: "That's an old wish with me," said Cassy. "I've got used to
wishing that. I'd die, if I dared to," she said, looking out
into the darkness, with that still, fixed despair which was the
habitual expression of her face when at rest.
"It would be wicked to kill one's self," said Emmeline.
"I don't know why,--no wickeder than things we live and do,
day after day. But the sisters told me things, when I was in
the convent, that make me afraid to die. If it would only be the
end of us, why, then--"
Emmeline turned away, and hid her face in her hands.
While this conversation was passing in the chamber, Legree,
Uncle Tom's Cabin |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald: I hadn't the faintest idea what "this matter." was, but I was more
annoyed than interested. I hadn't asked Jordan to tea in order to discuss
Mr. Jay Gatsby. I was sure the request would be something utterly
fantastic, and for a moment I was sorry I'd ever set foot upon his
overpopulated lawn.
He wouldn't say another word. His correctness grew on him as we neared
the city. We passed Port Roosevelt, where there was a glimpse of
red-belted ocean-going ships, and sped along a cobbled slum lined with
the dark, undeserted saloons of the faded-gilt nineteen-hundreds. Then
the valley of ashes opened out on both sides of us, and I had a glimpse
of Mrs. Wilson straining at the garage pump with panting vitality as we
The Great Gatsby |
