| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Dark Lady of the Sonnets by George Bernard Shaw: sentimental exaggeration to describe him as a broken-hearted man in
the face of the passages of reckless jollity and serenely happy poetry
in his latest plays, yet the discovery that his most serious work
could reach success only when carried on the back of a very
fascinating actor who was enormously overcharging his part, and that
the serious plays which did not contain parts big enough to hold the
overcharge were left on the shelf, amply accounts for the evident fact
that Shakespear did not end his life in a glow of enthusiastic
satisfaction with mankind and with the theatre, which is all that Mr
Harris can allege in support of his broken-heart theory. But even if
Shakespear had had no failures, it was not possible for a man of his
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy: "If you like, your honor!"
The officers got up and stood round the Cossacks and their prisoner.
The French dragoon was a young Alsatian who spoke French with a German
accent. He was breathless with agitation, his face was red, and when
he heard some French spoken he at once began speaking to the officers,
addressing first one, then another. He said he would not have been
taken, it was not his fault but the corporal's who had sent him to
seize some horsecloths, though he had told him the Russians were
there. And at every word he added: "But don't hurt my little horse!"
and stroked the animal. It was plain that he did not quite grasp where
he was. Now he excused himself for having been taken prisoner and now,
War and Peace |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Aspern Papers by Henry James: Bordereau in the dead of night examining the attachment of her bureau;
and it had not been less so to have to believe for a good many hours
afterward that it was highly probable I had killed her. In writing
to Miss Tita I attempted to minimize these irregularities; but as she gave
me no word of answer I could not know what impression I made upon her.
It rankled in my mind that I had been called a publishing scoundrel,
for certainly I did publish and certainly I had not been very delicate.
There was a moment when I stood convinced that the only way to make up
for this latter fault was to take myself away altogether on the instant;
to sacrifice my hopes and relieve the two poor women forever of the oppression
of my intercourse. Then I reflected that I had better try a short
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