| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Mistress Wilding by Rafael Sabatini: fierceness. "Why? Because that craven villain there betrayed me."
"He did not," she answered in so assured a voice that not only did it
give him pause, but caused Richard, cowering behind her, to raise his
head in wonder.
Sir Rowland smiled his disbelief, and that smile, twisting his
blood-smeared countenance, was grotesque and horrible. "I left him to
guard our backs and give me warning if any approached," he informed her.
"I knew him for too great a coward to be trusted in the fight; so I gave
him a safe task, and yet in that he failed me-failed me because he had
betrayed and sold me."
"He had not. I tell you he had not," she insisted. "I swear it."
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from La Grande Breteche by Honore de Balzac: talk.'
"After chatting with me for a few minutes, my hostess left me a prey
to vague and sinister thoughts, to romantic curiosity, and a religious
dread, not unlike the deep emotion which comes upon us when we go into
a dark church at night and discern a feeble light glimmering under a
lofty vault--a dim figure glides across--the sweep of a gown or of a
priest's cassock is audible--and we shiver! La Grande Breteche, with
its rank grasses, its shuttered windows, its rusty iron-work, its
locked doors, its deserted rooms, suddenly rose before me in fantastic
vividness. I tried to get into the mysterious dwelling to search out
the heart of this solemn story, this drama which had killed three
 La Grande Breteche |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Prince Otto by Robert Louis Stevenson: buffet. On every side, the shadows leaped from their ambush and
fell prone. The day was come, plain and garish; and up the steep
and solitary eastern heaven, the sun, victorious over his
competitors, continued slowly and royally to mount.
Seraphina drooped for a little, leaning on a pine, the shrill joy of
the woodlands mocking her. The shelter of the night, the thrilling
and joyous changes of the dawn, were over; and now, in the hot eye
of the day, she turned uneasily and looked sighingly about her.
Some way off among the lower woods, a pillar of smoke was mounting
and melting in the gold and blue. There, surely enough, were human
folk, the hearth-surrounders. Man's fingers had laid the twigs; it
|