| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence: yielding up her hour.
He rose, and turned up the lantern, then began to pull on his clothes,
quickly disappearing inside them. Then he stood there, above her,
fastening his breeches and looking down at her with dark, wide-eyes,
his face a little flushed and his hair ruffled, curiously warm and
still and beautiful in the dim light of the lantern, so beautiful, she
would never tell him how beautiful. It made her want to cling fast to
him, to hold him, for there was a warm, half-sleepy remoteness in his
beauty that made her want to cry out and clutch him, to have him. She
would never have him. So she lay on the blanket with curved, soft naked
haunches, and he had no idea what she was thinking, but to him too she
Lady Chatterley's Lover |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Memories and Portraits by Robert Louis Stevenson: thoughtful, Bible-quoting ploughman. A week or two in such a place
as Suffolk leaves the Scotchman gasping. It seems incredible that
within the boundaries of his own island a class should have been
thus forgotten. Even the educated and intelligent, who hold our
own opinions and speak in our own words, yet seem to hold them with
a difference or, from another reason, and to speak on all things
with less interest and conviction. The first shock of English
society is like a cold plunge. It is possible that the Scot comes
looking for too much, and to be sure his first experiment will be
in the wrong direction. Yet surely his complaint is grounded;
surely the speech of Englishmen is too often lacking in generous
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Z. Marcas by Honore de Balzac: nor interest, nor pity, but curiosity mingled with all these feelings.
He walked slowly, with a step that betrayed deep melancholy, his head
forward with a stoop, but not bent like that of a conscience-stricken
man. That head, large and powerful, which might contain the treasures
necessary for a man of the highest ambition, looked as if it were
loaded with thought; it was weighted with grief of mind, but there was
no touch of remorse in his expression. As to his face, it may be
summed up in a word. A common superstition has it that every human
countenance resembles some animal. The animal for Marcas was the lion.
His hair was like a mane, his nose was sort and flat; broad and dented
at the tip like a lion's; his brow, like a lion's, was strongly marked
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