| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Louis Lambert by Honore de Balzac: means of reading had become in him a very strange phenomenon. His eye
took in six or seven lines at once, and his mind grasped the sense
with a swiftness as remarkable as that of his eye; sometimes even one
word in a sentence was enough to enable him to seize the gist of the
matter.
His memory was prodigious. He remembered with equal exactitude the
ideas he had derived from reading, and those which had occurred to him
in the course of meditation or conversation. Indeed, he had every form
of memory--for places, for names, for words, things, and faces. He not
only recalled any object at will, but he saw them in his mind,
situated, lighted, and colored as he had originally seen them. And
Louis Lambert |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Sarrasine by Honore de Balzac: means reassuring. At the words, 'Those are brigands!' they all
quickened their pace in order to reach the shelter of the wall
enclosing the cardinal's villa. At that critical moment Sarrasine saw
from La Zambinella's manner that she no longer had strength to walk;
he took her in his arms and carried her for some distance, running.
When he was within call of a vineyard near by, he set his mistress
down.
" 'Tell me,' he said, 'why it is that this extreme weakness which in
another woman would be hideous, would disgust me, so that the
slightest indication of it would be enough to destroy my love,--why is
it that in you it pleases me, fascinates me? Oh, how I love you!' he
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from New Poems by Robert Louis Stevenson: To hear the cordage moan
And the straining timbers groan,
And to see the flying pennon lie a-lee.
O sailor of the fleet,
It is time to stir the feet!
It's time to man the dingy and to row!
It's lay your hand in mine
And it's empty down the wine,
And it's drain a health to death before we go!
To death, my lads, we sail;
And it's death that blows the gale
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