| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy: "I don't remember it," said Jude doggedly. "There's only one woman--
but I won't mention her in this Capharnaum!"
Arabella looked towards her father. "Now, Mr. Fawley be honourable,"
said Donn. "You and my daughter have been living here together these three
or four days, quite on the understanding that you were going to marry her.
Of course I shouldn't have had such goings on in my house if I hadn't
understood that. As a point of honour you must do it now."
"Don't say anything against my honour!" enjoined Jude hotly, standing up.
"I'd marry the W---- of Babylon rather than do anything dishonourable!
No reflection on you, my dear. It is a mere rhetorical figure--what they call
in the books, hyperbole."
Jude the Obscure |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy: bring it, please, and meanwhile they'll finish clearing up here."
Returning with the bottle, Levin found the sick man settled
comfortably and everything about him completely changed. The
heavy smell was replaced by the smell of aromatic vinegar, which
Kitty with pouting lips and puffed-out, rosy cheeks was squirting
through a little pipe. There was no dust visible anywhere, a rug
was laid by the bedside. On the table stood medicine bottles and
decanters tidily arranged, and the linen needed was folded up
there, and Kitty's broderie anglaise. On the other table by the
patient's bed there were candles and drink and powders. The sick
man himself, washed and combed, lay in clean sheets on high
Anna Karenina |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The New Machiavelli by H. G. Wells: me that I was going about in my own brain like a hushed survivor in
a house whose owner lies dead upstairs.
I came to a crisis after that wild dinner of Tarvrille's. Something
in that stripped my soul bare.
It was an occasion made absurd and strange by the odd accident that
the house caught fire upstairs while we were dining below. It was a
men's dinner--" A dinner of all sorts," said Tarvrille, when he
invited me; "everything from Evesham and Gane to Wilkins the author,
and Heaven knows what will happen!" I remember that afterwards
Tarvrille was accused of having planned the fire to make his dinner
a marvel and a memory. It was indeed a wonderful occasion, and I
|
