| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf: Bankes was dining here. She put a spell on them all, by wishing, so
simply, so directly, and Lily contrasted that abundance with her own
poverty of spirit, and supposed that it was partly that belief (for her
face was all lit up--without looking young, she looked radiant) in this
strange, this terrifying thing, which made Paul Rayley, sitting at her
side, all of a tremor, yet abstract, absorbed, silent. Mrs Ramsay,
Lily felt, as she talked about the skins of vegetables, exalted that,
worshipped that; held her hands over it to warm them, to protect it,
and yet, having brought it all about, somehow laughed, led her victims,
Lily felt, to the altar. It came over her too now--the emotion, the
vibration, of love. How inconspicuous she felt herself by Paul's side!
To the Lighthouse |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Vendetta by Honore de Balzac: "I have persuaded your father to receive him."
"Oh! mother, how happy you have made me!"
That day Ginevra had the joy of coming home on the arm of her Luigi.
The officer came out of his hiding-place for the second time only. The
earnest appeals which Ginevra made to the Duc de Feltre, then minister
of war, had been crowned with complete success. Luigi's name was
replaced upon the roll of officers awaiting orders. This was the first
great step toward better things. Warned by Ginevra of the difficulties
he would encounter with her father, the young man dared not express
his fear of finding it impossible to please the old man. Courageous
under adversity, brave on a battlefield, he trembled at the thought of
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Wife, et al by Anton Chekhov: for an hour, for an hour and a half, for two hours. . . . 'Come,'
I thought; 'thank God, there are only ten pages left!' And at the
end there were four pages that there was no need to read, and I
reckoned to leave them out. 'So there are only six really,' I
thought; 'that is, only six pages left to read.' But, only fancy,
I chanced to glance before me, and, sitting in the front row,
side by side, were a general with a ribbon on his breast and a
bishop. The poor beggars were numb with boredom; they were
staring with their eyes wide open to keep awake, and yet they
were trying to put on an expression of attention and to pretend
that they understood what I was saying and liked it. 'Well,' I
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