| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Professor by Charlotte Bronte: me. Her mere words could have afforded no clue to this aim, but
her countenance aided; while her lips uttered only affable
commonplaces, her eyes reverted continually to my face. Her
glances were not given in full, but out of the corners, so
quietly, so stealthily, yet I think I lost not one. I watched
her as keenly as she watched me; I perceived soon that she was
feeling after my real character; she was searching for salient
points, and weak; points, and eccentric points; she was applying
now this test, now that, hoping in the end to find some chink,
some niche, where she could put in her little firm foot and stand
upon my neck--mistress of my nature, Do not mistake me, reader,
The Professor |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The First Men In The Moon by H. G. Wells: lost to him; his deepest emotion is the evolution of a novel computation.
And so he attains his end.
"Or, again, a Selenite appointed to be a minder of mooncalves is from his
earliest years induced to think and live mooncalf, to find his pleasure in
mooncalf lore, his exercise in their tending and pursuit. He is trained to
become wiry and active, his eye is indurated to the tight wrappings, the
angular contours that constitute a 'smart mooncalfishness.' He takes at
last no interest in the deeper part of the moon; he regards all Selenites
not equally versed in mooncalves with indifference, derision, or
hostility. His thoughts are of mooncalf pastures, and his dialect an
accomplished mooncalf technique. So also he loves his work, and discharges
The First Men In The Moon |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Maitre Cornelius by Honore de Balzac: word, accepting a look, and permitting a mere pressure of the hand.
Love may never have been more deeply felt than in those hearts, never
more delightfully enjoyed, but certainly no passion was ever more
perilous. It was easy to divine that to these two beings air, sound,
foot-falls, etc., things indifferent to other men, presented hidden
qualities, peculiar properties which they distinguished. Perhaps their
love made them find faithful interpreters in the icy hands of the old
priest to whom they confessed their sins, and from whom they received
the Host at the holy table. Love profound! love gashed into the soul
like a scar upon the body which we carry through life! When these two
young people looked at each other, the woman seemed to say to her
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