| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Catherine de Medici by Honore de Balzac: Montresor.
The provost-marshal turned away his eyes, the executioners were busy
with the wedges; Catherine was free to cast one glance upon the
martyr, unseen by others, which fell on Christophe like the dew. The
eyes of the great queen seemed to him moist; two tears were in them,
but they did not fall. The wedges were driven; a plank was broken by
the blow. Christophe gave one dreadful cry, after which he was silent;
his face shone,--he believed he was dying.
"Let him die?" said the cardinal, echoing the queen's last words with
a sort of irony; "no, no! don't break that thread," he said to the
provost.
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu by Sax Rohmer: carrying his high shoulders almost hunched. He placed the lantern
in a niche in the wall, never turning away the reptilian gaze
of those eyes which must haunt my dreams forever. They possessed
a viridescence which hitherto I had supposed possible only in the eye
of the cat--and the film intermittently clouded their brightness--
but I can speak of them no more.
I had never supposed, prior to meeting Dr. Fu-Manchu, that so intense
a force of malignancy could radiate--from any human being. He spoke.
His English was perfect, though at times his words were oddly chosen;
his delivery alternately was guttural and sibilant.
"Mr. Smith and Dr. Petrie, your interference with my plans has gone too far.
The Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Manon Lescaut by Abbe Prevost: recount them, for I confess they have been brought on by no very
creditable course of conduct: the results, however, are so truly
melancholy, that a friend even less attached than you would be
affected by the recital.'
"He then begged of me, in proof of friendship, to let him know,
without any disguise, all that had occurred to me since my
departure from St. Sulpice. I gratified him; and so far from
concealing anything, or attempting to extenuate my faults, I
spoke of my passion with all the ardour with which it still
inspired me. I represented it to him as one of those especial
visitations of fate, which draw on the devoted victim to his
|
