| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Father Goriot by Honore de Balzac: marrow as he flies from pursuit; but a young man who can rattle a
few runaway gold coins in his pocket can take his pleasure
deliberately, can taste the whole of the sweets of secure
possession; he soars far above earth; he has forgotten what the
word POVERTY means; all Paris is his. Those are days when the
whole world shines radiant with light, when everything glows and
sparkles before the eyes of youth, days that bring joyous energy
that is never brought into harness, days of debts and of painful
fears that go hand in hand with every delight. Those who do not
know the left bank of the Seine between the Rue Saint-Jacques and
the Rue des Saints-Peres know nothing of life.
Father Goriot |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Tales of the Klondyke by Jack London: gaze bent up the river to the head of the island.
A canoe, with a paddle flashing on either side, was slipping down
the current. In the stern a man's form, and in the bow a woman's,
swung rhythmically to the work. Mrs. Sayther had no eyes for the
woman till the canoe drove in closer and her bizarre beauty
peremptorily demanded notice. A close-fitting blouse of moose-
skin, fantastically beaded, outlined faithfully the well-rounded
lines of her body, while a silken kerchief, gay of color and
picturesquely draped, partly covered great masses of blue-black
hair. But it was the face, cast belike in copper bronze, which
caught and held Mrs. Sayther's fleeting glance. Eyes, piercing
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Hamlet by William Shakespeare: Songs? Your flashes of Merriment that were wont to
set the Table on a Rore? No one now to mock your own
Ieering? Quite chopfalne? Now get you to my Ladies
Chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thicke, to this
fauour she must come. Make her laugh at that: prythee
Horatio tell me one thing
Hor. What's that my Lord?
Ham. Dost thou thinke Alexander lookt o'this fashion
i'th' earth?
Hor. E'ene so
Ham. And smelt so? Puh
Hamlet |
