| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Lady Susan by Jane Austen: made wretched by Sir James's continuing here. She is a sweet girl, and
deserves a better fate. Send him away immediately; he is only a fool: but
what her mother can mean, Heaven only knows! Good bye," he added, shaking
my hand with earnestness; "I do not know when you will see me again; but
remember what I tell you of Frederica; you MUST make it your business to
see justice done her. She is an amiable girl, and has a very superior mind
to what we have given her credit for." He then left me, and ran upstairs. I
would not try to stop him, for I know what his feelings must be. The nature
of mine, as I listened to him, I need not attempt to describe; for a minute
or two I remained in the same spot, overpowered by wonder of a most
agreeable sort indeed; yet it required some consideration to be tranquilly
Lady Susan |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Marvelous Land of Oz by L. Frank Baum: bands of light brown and white, blending together at the edges. Its arms
were fully as slender as its legs, and upon a rather long neck was perched
its head -- not unlike the head of a man, except that its nose ended in a
curling antenna, or "feeler," and its ears from the upper points bore
antennae that decorated the sides of its head like two miniature, curling
pig tails. It must be admitted that the round, black eyes were rather
bulging in appearance; but the expression upon the Woggle-Bug's face was by
no means unpleasant.
For dress the insect wore a dark-blue swallowtail coat with a yellow silk
lining and a flower in the button-hole; a vest of white duck that stretched
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The Marvelous Land of Oz |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Facino Cane by Honore de Balzac: start him off, and he has stowed away a couple of bottles as it is--
has the prince!"
"Come, strike up, Daddy Canard!" added the flageolet, and the three
began to play. But while they executed the four figures of a square
dance, the Venetian was scenting my thoughts; he guessed the great
interest I felt in him. The dreary, dispirited look died out of his
face, some mysterious hope brightened his features and slid like a
blue flame over his wrinkles. He smiled and wiped his brow, that
fearless, terrible brow of his, and at length grew gay like a man
mounted on his hobby.
"How old are you?" I asked.
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