| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte: feet above the ground; and I, pleased with her agility and her
light, childish heart, still considered it proper to scold every
time I caught her at such an elevation, but so that she knew there
was no necessity for descending. From dinner to tea she would lie
in her breeze-rocked cradle, doing nothing except singing old songs
- my nursery lore - to herself, or watching the birds, joint
tenants, feed and entice their young ones to fly: or nestling with
closed lids, half thinking, half dreaming, happier than words can
express.
'Look, Miss!' I exclaimed, pointing to a nook under the roots of
one twisted tree. 'Winter is not here yet. There's a little
Wuthering Heights |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Journal of the Plague Year by Daniel Defoe: sufficient from these to apprise any one of the humour of those times,
and how a set of thieves and pickpockets not only robbed and cheated
the poor people of their money, but poisoned their bodies with odious
and fatal preparations; some with mercury, and some with other things
as bad, perfectly remote from the thing pretended to, and rather
hurtful than serviceable to the body in case an infection followed.
I cannot omit a subtility of one of those quack operators, with which
he gulled the poor people to crowd about him, but did nothing for
them without money. He had, it seems, added to his bills, which he
gave about the streets, this advertisement in capital letters, viz.,
'He gives advice to the poor for nothing.'
A Journal of the Plague Year |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Youth by Joseph Conrad: The world was nothing but an immensity of great foam-
ing waves rushing at us, under a sky low enough to
touch with the hand and dirty like a smoked ceiling. In
the stormy space surrounding us there was as much flying
spray as air. Day after day and night after night there
was nothing round the ship but the howl of the wind,
the tumult of the sea, the noise of water pouring over
her deck. There was no rest for her and no rest for us.
She tossed, she pitched, she stood on her head, she sat on
her tail, she rolled, she groaned, and we had to hold on
while on deck and cling to our bunks when below, in a
Youth |
