| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Catriona by Robert Louis Stevenson: I beat their blades down twice. I was knocked reeling against the
wall; I was back again betwixt them. They took no heed of me,
thrusting at each other like two furies. I can never think how I
avoided being stabbed myself or stabbing one of these two Rodomonts,
and the whole business turned about me like a piece of a dream; in the
midst of which I heard a great cry from the stair, and Catriona sprang
before her father. In the same moment the point of my sword
encountered some thing yielding. It came back to me reddened. I saw
the blood flow on the girl's kerchief, and stood sick.
"Will you be killing him before my eyes, and me his daughter after
all!" she cried.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Love Songs by Sara Teasdale: I. Spirit's House
From naked stones of agony
I will build a house for me;
As a mason all alone
I will raise it, stone by stone,
And every stone where I have bled
Will show a sign of dusky red.
I have not gone the way in vain,
For I have good of all my pain;
My spirit's quiet house will be
Built of naked stones I trod
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Albert Savarus by Honore de Balzac: confessional, simply to pass the time; and she thus placed herself in
such a way as to see Albert as he came into church.
The man must have been atrociously ugly who did not seem handsome to
Mademoiselle de Watteville in the frame of mind produced by her
curiosity. And Albert Savaron, who was really very striking, made all
the more impression on Rosalie because his mien, his walk, his
carriage, everything down to his clothing, had the indescribable stamp
which can only be expressed by the word Mystery.
He came in. The church, till now gloomy, seemed to Rosalie to be
illuminated. The girl was fascinated by his slow and solemn demeanor,
as of a man who bears a world on his shoulders and whose deep gaze,
Albert Savarus |
