| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Almayer's Folly by Joseph Conrad: senseless annihilation of drunken sleep, he was returning,
through the land of dreams, to waking consciousness. Almayer's
head rolled from shoulder to shoulder in the oppression of his
dream; the heavens had descended upon him like a heavy mantle,
and trailed in starred folds far under him. Stars above, stars
all round him; and from the stars under his feet rose a whisper
full of entreaties and tears, and sorrowful faces flitted amongst
the clusters of light filling the infinite space below. How
escape from the importunity of lamentable cries and from the look
of staring, sad eyes in the faces which pressed round him till he
gasped for breath under the crushing weight of worlds that hung
Almayer's Folly |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Recruit by Honore de Balzac: she expected to fold her son in her arms. A mother alone could have
thought of all his wants; a choice repast, rare wine, fresh linen,
slippers, in short, everything the tired man would need,--all were
there that nothing might be lacking; the comforts of his home should
reveal to him without words the tenderness of his mother!
"Brigitte!" said the countess, in a heart-rending tone, placing a
chair before the table, as if to give a semblance of reality to her
hopes, and so increase the strength of her illusions.
"Ah! madame, he will come. He is not far off. I haven't a doubt he is
living, and on his way," replied Brigitte. "I put a key in the Bible,
and I held it on my fingers while Cottin read a chapter in the gospel
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Young Forester by Zane Grey: of the woods.
XI. THE OLD HUNTER
I ran till I got a stitch in my side, and then slowed down to a dog-trot.
The one thing to do was to get a long way ahead of my pursuers, for surely
at the outset they would stick like hounds to my trail.
A mile or more below the gorge I took to the stream and waded. It was
slippery, dangerous work, for the current tore about my legs and threatened
to upset me. After a little I crossed to the left bank. Here the slope of
the canyon was thick with grass that hid my tracks. It was a long climb up
to the level. Upon reaching it I dropped, exhausted.
"I've--given them--the slip," I panted, exultantly. . . . "But--now what?"
The Young Forester |
