| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Simple Soul by Gustave Flaubert: for several generations.
Like its owners, the farm had an ancient appearance. The beams of the
ceiling were mouldy, the walls black with smoke and the windows grey
with dust. The oak sideboard was filled with all sorts of utensils,
plates, pitchers, tin bowls, wolf-traps. The children laughed when
they saw a huge syringe. There was not a tree in the yard that did not
have mushrooms growing around its foot, or a bunch of mistletoe
hanging in its branches. Several of the trees had been blown down, but
they had started to grow in the middle and all were laden with
quantities of apples. The thatched roofs, which were of unequal
thickness, looked like brown velvet and could resist the fiercest
A Simple Soul |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Christ in Flanders by Honore de Balzac: The nautical phrases, unintelligible to ears unused to the sound of
the sea, seemed to put fresh energy into the oars; they kept time
together, the rhythm of the movement was still even and steady, but
quite unlike the previous manner of rowing; it was as if a cantering
horse had broken into a gallop. The gay company seated in the stern
amused themselves by watching the brawny arms, the tanned faces, and
sparkling eyes of the rowers, the play of the tense muscles, the
physical and mental forces that were being exerted to bring them for a
trifling toll across the channel. So far from pitying the rowers'
distress, they pointed out the men's faces to each other, and laughed
at the grotesque expressions on the faces of the crew who were
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Touchstone by Edith Wharton: "Ah, you're at my manuscript shelf. I've been going in for that
sort of thing lately." Flamel came up and looked over his
shoulders. "That's a bit of Stendhal--one of the Italian stories--
and here are some letters of Balzac to Madame Commanville."
Glennard took the book with sudden eagerness. "Who was Madame
Commanville?"
"His sister." He was conscious that Flamel was looking at him
with the smile that was like an interrogation point. "I didn't
know you cared for this kind of thing."
"I don't--at least I've never had the chance. Have you many
collections of letters?"
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