| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Weir of Hermiston by Robert Louis Stevenson: another; questing, forgetting her quest; the spirit of choice extinct in
her bosom, or devoid of sequency. On a sudden, it appeared as though
she had remembered, or had formed a resolution, wheeled about, returned
with hurried steps, and appeared in the dining-room, where Kirstie was
at the cleaning, like one charged with an important errand.
"Kirstie!" she began, and paused; and then with conviction, "Mr. Weir
isna speeritually minded, but he has been a good man to me."
It was perhaps the first time since her husband's elevation that she had
forgotten the handle to his name, of which the tender, inconsistent
woman was not a little proud. And when Kirstie looked up at the
speaker's face, she was aware of a change.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Silas Marner by George Eliot: He rose and placed his candle unsuspectingly on the floor near his
loom, swept away the sand without noticing any change, and removed
the bricks. The sight of the empty hole made his heart leap
violently, but the belief that his gold was gone could not come at
once--only terror, and the eager effort to put an end to the
terror. He passed his trembling hand all about the hole, trying to
think it possible that his eyes had deceived him; then he held the
candle in the hole and examined it curiously, trembling more and
more. At last he shook so violently that he let fall the candle,
and lifted his hands to his head, trying to steady himself, that he
might think. Had he put his gold somewhere else, by a sudden
Silas Marner |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Damaged Goods by Upton Sinclair: youth, sir. That which afflicts your son-in-law, you have
deserved it just as much as he--more than he, perhaps.
Therefore, have pity on him; have for him the toleration which
the unpunished criminal ought to have for the criminal less
fortunate than himself upon whom the penalty has fallen. Is that
not so?"
Monsieur Loches had been listening to this discourse with the
feeling of a thief before the bar. There was nothing that he
could answer. "Sir," he stammered, "as you present this thing to
me--"
"But am I not right?" insisted the doctor.
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