| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The King of the Golden River by John Ruskin: fade from before his eyes, and he looked up, and, behold, a mist, of
the color of blood, had come over the sun; and the bank of black
cloud had risen very high, and its edges were tossing and tumbling
like the waves of the angry sea and they cast long shadows which
flickered over Schwartz's path.
Then Schwartz climbed for another hour, and again his thirst
returned; and as he lifted his flask to his lips he thought he saw
his brother Hans lying exhausted on the path before him, and as he
gazed the figure stretched its arms to him and cried for water.
"Ha, ha!" laughed Schwartz, "are you there? Remember the prison
bars, my boy. Water, indeed! do you suppose I carried it all the
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Personal Record by Joseph Conrad: glance, his smile, the unextinguishable and comic ardour of his
striving-forward appearance, helped me to pull myself together.
It must be stated that on that day and in the exhilarating
atmosphere of that elevated spot I had been feeling utterly
crushed. It was the year in which I had first spoken aloud of my
desire to go to sea. At first like those sounds that, ranging
outside the scale to which men's ears are attuned, remain
inaudible to our sense of hearing, this declaration passed
unperceived. It was as if it had not been. Later on, by trying
various tones, I managed to arouse here and there a surprised
momentary attention--the "What was that funny noise?"--sort of
A Personal Record |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Turn of the Screw by Henry James: caught myself up. "How do you communicate?"
"I tell the bailiff. HE writes."
"And should you like him to write our story?"
My question had a sarcastic force that I had not fully intended,
and it made her, after a moment, inconsequently break down.
The tears were again in her eyes. "Ah, miss, YOU write!"
"Well--tonight," I at last answered; and on this we separated.
XVII
I went so far, in the evening, as to make a beginning.
The weather had changed back, a great wind was abroad,
and beneath the lamp, in my room, with Flora at peace beside me,
|
