| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Options by O. Henry: must be some mistake. Just consider that I am ignorant of it, will
you, dear? I must go up-stairs now, I have such a headache. I'm sure
I don't understand the note. Perhaps Gilbert has been dining too
well, and will explain. Good night!"
IV
Nevada tiptoed to the hall, and heard Barbara's door close upstairs.
The bronze clock in the study told the hour of twelve was fifteen
minutes away. She ran swiftly to the front door, and let herself out
into the snow-storm. Gilbert Warren's studio was six squares away.
By aerial ferry the white, silent forces of the storm attacked the
city from beyond the sullen East River. Already the snow lay a foot
Options |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Through the Looking-Glass by Lewis Carroll: What did it ask you?'
`Nothing!' Alice said impatiently. `I've been knocking at it!'
`Shouldn't do that--shouldn't do that--' the Frog muttered.
`Vexes it, you know.' Then he went up and gave the door a kick
with one of his great feet. `You let IT alone,' he panted out,
as he hobbled back to his tree, `and it'll let YOU alone, you know.'
At this moment the door was flung open, and a shrill voice was
heard singing:
`To the Looking-Glass world it was Alice that said,
"I've a sceptre in hand, I've a crown on my head;
Let the Looking-Glass creatures, whatever they be,
Through the Looking-Glass |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Virginibus Puerisque by Robert Louis Stevenson: your anchorage; and so long as Death withholds his sickle, you
will always have a friend at home. People who share a cell in
the Bastile, or are thrown together on an uninhabited isle, if
they do not immediately fall to fisticuffs, will find some
possible ground of compromise. They will learn each other's
ways and humours, so as to know where they must go warily, and
where they may lean their whole weight. The discretion of the
first years becomes the settled habit of the last; and so,
with wisdom and patience, two lives may grow indissolubly into
one.
But marriage, if comfortable, is not at all heroic. It
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