| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Last War: A World Set Free by H. G. Wells: depopulation was to be avoided, and their transportation and the
revival of communications generally absorbed a certain proportion
of the soldiery and more able unemployed. The task of housing
assumed gigantic dimensions, and from building camps the housing
committee of the council speedily passed to constructions of a
more permanent type. They found far less friction than might have
been expected in turning the loose population on their hands to
these things. People were extraordinarily tamed by that year of
suffering and death; they were disillusioned of their traditions,
bereft of once obstinate prejudices; they felt foreign in a
strange world, and ready to follow any confident leadership. The
The Last War: A World Set Free |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Salome by Oscar Wilde: voulu me laisser baiser ta bouche, Iokanaan. Eh bien! je la
baiserai maintenant. Je la mordrai avec mes dents comme on mord un
fruit mur. Oui, je baiserai ta bouche, Iokanaan. Je te l'ai dit,
n'est-ce pas? je te l'ai dit. Eh bien! je la baiserai maintenant .
. . Mais pourquoi ne me regardes-tu pas, Iokanaan? Tes yeux qui
etaient si terribles, qui etaient si pleins de colere et de mepris,
ils sont fermes maintenant. Pourquoi sont-ils fermes? Ouvre tes
yeux! Souleve tes paupieres, Iokanaan. Pourquoi ne me regardes-tu
pas? As-tu peur de moi, Iokanaan, que tu ne veux pas me regarder? .
. . Et ta langue qui etait comme un serpent rouge dardant des
poisons, elle ne remue plus, elle ne dit rien maintenant, Iokanaan,
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Daisy Miller by Henry James: uppermost in the mind of a young American, who, two or three years ago,
sat in the garden of the "Trois Couronnes," looking about him,
rather idly, at some of the graceful objects I have mentioned.
It was a beautiful summer morning, and in whatever fashion the young
American looked at things, they must have seemed to him charming.
He had come from Geneva the day before by the little steamer,
to see his aunt, who was staying at the hotel--Geneva having been
for a long time his place of residence. But his aunt had a headache--
his aunt had almost always a headache--and now she was shut up in
her room, smelling camphor, so that he was at liberty to wander about.
He was some seven-and-twenty years of age; when his friends spoke
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