| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence: losing their warmth. But a pallor of isolation came over him, she was
not really there for him.
She wanted to say so many things, and she said nothing. Only she looked
up at him again, and remarked:
'I hope I didn't disturb you?'
The faint smile of mockery narrowed his eyes.
'Only combing my hair, if you don't mind. I'm sorry I hadn't a coat on,
but then I had no idea who was knocking. Nobody knocks here, and the
unexpected sounds ominous.'
He went in front of her down the garden path to hold the gate. In his
shirt, without the clumsy velveteen coat, she saw again how slender he
Lady Chatterley's Lover |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Fisherman's Luck by Henry van Dyke: from the neighbouring forest!
"For my part, I was always a bungler at all kinds of sport that
required either patience or adroitness, and had not angled above
half an hour before I had completely 'satisfied the sentiment,' and
convinced myself of the truth of Izaak Walton's opinion, that
angling is something like poetry,--a man must be born to it. I
hooked myself instead of the fish; tangled my line in every tree;
lost my bait; broke my rod; until I gave up the attempt in despair,
and passed the day under the trees, reading old Izaak, satisfied
that it was his fascinating vein of honest simplicity and rural
feeling that had bewitched me, and not the passion for angling."
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Rape of Lucrece by William Shakespeare: The shame that from them no device can take,
The blemish that will never be forgot;
Worse than a slavish wipe, or birth-hour's blot:
For marks descried in men's nativity
Are nature's faults, not their own infamy.'
Here with a cockatrice' dead-killing eye
He rouseth up himself and makes a pause;
While she, the picture of pure piety,
Like a white hind under the grype's sharp claws,
Pleads in a wilderness where are no laws,
To the rough beast that knows no gentle right,
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