| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Father Sergius by Leo Tolstoy: and pitiable. She had come with her daughter and her daughter's
fiance. They were already poor at that time and later on he had
heard that she was living in a small provincial town and was very
poor.
'Why am I thinking about her?' he asked himself, but he could not
cease doing so. 'Where is she? How is she getting on? Is she
still as unhappy as she was then when she had to show us how to
swim on the floor? But why should I think about her? What am I
doing? I must put an end to myself.'
And again he felt afraid, and again, to escape from that thought,
he went on thinking about Pashenka.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Emmuska Orczy: the rumble of the wheels could not fail to be a safe guide.
The loneliness was absolute. Already the few dim lights of
Calais lay far behind, and on this road there was not a sign of human
habitation, not even the hut of a fisherman or of a woodcutter
anywhere near; far away on her right was the edge of the cliff, below
it the rough beach, against which the incoming tide was dashing itself
with its constant, distant murmur. And ahead the rumble of the
wheels, bearing an implacable enemy to his triumph.
Marguerite wondered at what particular spot, on this lonely
coast, Percy could be at this moment. Not very far surely, for he had
had less than a quarter of an hour's start of Chauvelin. She wondered
The Scarlet Pimpernel |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from An Historical Mystery by Honore de Balzac: soured and bittered face of Corentin, that the real adversaries had
met. A terrible duel was about to begin.
Noticing the box, now in the hands of Corentin, the countess raised
her whip and sprang rapidly towards him. Striking his hands with so
violent a blow that the casket fell to the ground, she seized it,
flung it into the middle of the fire, and stood with her back to the
chimney in a threatening attitude before either of the agents
recovered from their surprise. The scorn which flamed from her eyes,
her pale brow, her disdainful lips, were even more insulting than the
haughty action which treated Corentin as though he were a venomous
reptile. Old d'Hauteserre felt himself once more a cavalier; all his
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