| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Lesson of the Master by Henry James: "I never made him do anything in my life but once - when I made him
burn up a bad book. That's all!" At her "That's all!" our young
friend broke into an irrepressible laugh; it lasted only a second,
but it drew her eyes to him. His own met them, though not long
enough to help him to understand her; unless it were a step towards
this that he saw on the instant how the burnt book - the way she
alluded to it! - would have been one of her husband's finest
things.
"A bad book?" her interlocutor repeated.
"I didn't like it. He went to church because your daughter went,"
she continued to General Fancourt. "I think it my duty to call
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Last War: A World Set Free by H. G. Wells: one problem; it was impossible any longer to deal with it piece
by piece. They had to secure it universally from any fresh
outbreak of atomic destruction, and they had to ensure a
permanent and universal pacification. On this capacity to grasp
and wield the whole round globe their existence depended. There
was no scope for any further performance.
So soon as the seizure of the existing supplies of atomic
ammunition and the apparatus for synthesising Carolinum was
assured, the disbanding or social utilisation of the various
masses of troops still under arms had to be arranged, the
salvation of the year's harvests, and the feeding, housing, and
The Last War: A World Set Free |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Second Home by Honore de Balzac: coughing all night. She must be very tired."
Her companion made no reply, but he looked at the girl with a smile
that seemed to say:
"Poor child, you little know your mother!"
However, in spite of his distrust, as the chaise made its way down the
long avenue of poplars leading to Eaubonne, the Stranger thought that
Madame Crochard was really asleep; perhaps he did not care to inquire
how far her slumbers were genuine or feigned. Whether it were that the
brilliant sky, the pure country air, and the heady fragrance of the
first green shoots of the poplars, the catkins of willow, and the
flowers of the blackthorn had inclined his heart to open like all the
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