| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf: to think that Mrs Ramsay would never know the reason of that pressure, she
imagined how in the chambers of the mind and heart of the woman who was,
physically, touching her, were stood, like the treasures in the tombs of
kings, tablets bearing sacred inscriptions, which if one could spell them
out, would teach one everything, but they would never be offered openly,
never made public. What art was there, known to love or cunning, by which
one pressed through into those secret chambers? What device for becoming,
like waters poured into one jar, inextricably the same, one with the
object one adored? Could the body achieve, or the mind, subtly mingling
in the intricate passages of the brain? or the heart? Could loving,
as people called it, make her and Mrs Ramsay one? for it was not knowledge
To the Lighthouse |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Manon Lescaut by Abbe Prevost: implored him to continue his history. He protested that he knew
nothing more, and that what he had previously told me, having
only happened the preceding day, he had not had a second
opportunity of seeing the prince's servants. I encouraged him,
not only with praises, but with a substantial recompense; and
without betraying the slightest distrust of Manon, I requested
him, in the mildest manner, to keep strict watch upon all the
foreigner's movements.
"In truth, the effect of his fright was to leave me in a state
of the cruellest suspense. It was possible that she had ordered
him to suppress part of the truth. However, after a little
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Distinguished Provincial at Paris by Honore de Balzac: things off with a dash of bravado before the spectators. He stood in
his place; he would not take a step, a piece of recklessness which the
others took for deliberate calculation. They thought the poet an
uncommonly cool hand. Michel Chrestien came as far as his limit; both
fired twice and at the same time, for either party was considered to
be equally insulted. Michel's first bullet grazed Lucien's chin;
Lucien's passed ten feet above Chrestien's head. The second shot hit
Lucien's coat collar, but the buckram lining fortunately saved its
wearer. The third bullet struck him in the chest, and he dropped.
"Is he dead?" asked Michel Chrestien.
"No," said the surgeon, "he will pull through."
|
