| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from At the Sign of the Cat & Racket by Honore de Balzac: eaten into in such a way that it might now have been taken for the
figure of a spectator--so long, and thick, and furry were the tails of
our forefathers' cats. To the right of the picture, on an azure field
which ill-disguised the decay of the wood, might be read the name
"Guillaume," and to the left, "Successor to Master Chevrel." Sun and
rain had worn away most of the gilding parsimoniously applied to the
letters of this superscription, in which the Us and Vs had changed
places in obedience to the laws of old-world orthography.
To quench the pride of those who believe that the world is growing
cleverer day by day, and that modern humbug surpasses everything, it
may be observed that these signs, of which the origin seems so
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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: every corner, the faces of Mr. Jellyband's customers appeared red and
pleasant to look at, and on good terms with themselves, their host and
all the world; from every side of the room loud guffaws accompanied
pleasant, if not highly intellectual, conversation--while Sally's
repeated giggles testified to the good use Mr. Harry Waite was making
of the short time she seemed inclined to spare him.
They were mostly fisher-folk who patronised Mr. Jellyband's
coffee-room, but fishermen are known to be very thirsty people; the
salt which they breathe in, when they are on the sea, accounts for
their parched throats when on shore. but "The Fisherman's Rest" was
something more than a rendezvous for these humble folk. The London
The Scarlet Pimpernel |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from My Antonia by Willa Cather: of forgotten interests revived in me. It seemed, after all,
so natural to be walking along a barbed-wire fence beside the sunset,
toward a red pond, and to see my shadow moving along at my right,
over the close-cropped grass.
`Has mother shown you the pictures you sent her from the old country?'
Ambrosch asked. `We've had them framed and they're hung up in the parlour.
She was so glad to get them. I don't believe I ever saw her so pleased
about anything.' There was a note of simple gratitude in his voice that made
me wish I had given more occasion for it.
I put my hand on his shoulder. `Your mother, you know,
was very much loved by all of us. She was a beautiful girl.'
My Antonia |
