| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte: dinner-knife from the table and flung it at my head. It struck
beneath my ear, and stopped the sentence I was uttering; but,
pulling it out, I sprang to the door and delivered another; which I
hope went a little deeper than his missile. The last glimpse I
caught of him was a furious rush on his part, checked by the
embrace of his host; and both fell locked together on the hearth.
In my flight through the kitchen I bid Joseph speed to his master;
I knocked over Hareton, who was hanging a litter of puppies from a
chair-back in the doorway; and, blessed as a soul escaped from
purgatory, I bounded, leaped, and flew down the steep road; then,
quitting its windings, shot direct across the moor, rolling over
Wuthering Heights |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Night and Day by Virginia Woolf: Warrington, now, had everything in his favor; intellect, passion,
romance, distinction, and the connection was a mere piece of
undergraduate folly. Arthur, I confess, has always seemed to me a bit
of a fop; I can't imagine how Laura married him. But you say you're a
solicitor, Mr. Denham. Now there are one or two things I should like
to ask you--about Shakespeare--" She drew out her small, worn volume
with some difficulty, opened it, and shook it in the air. "They say,
nowadays, that Shakespeare was a lawyer. They say, that accounts for
his knowledge of human nature. There's a fine example for you, Mr.
Denham. Study your clients, young man, and the world will be the
richer one of these days, I have no doubt. Tell me, how do we come out
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates by Howard Pyle: struck something soft beneath that level surface. But it did not,
nor was any sign of that tragedy ever seen again. For, whether
the pirates had carried away what they had done and buried it
elsewhere, or whether the storm in blowing the sand had
completely leveled off and hidden all sign of that tragedy where
it was enacted, certain it is that it never came to sight
again--at least so far as Tom Chist and the Rev. Hilary Jones
ever knew.
VII
This is the story of the treasure box. All that remains now is
to conclude the story of Tom Chist, and to tell of what came of
Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates |
