| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Verne: atmosphere is charged with vapours, pervaded with the electricity
generated by the evaporation of saline waters. The clouds are sinking
lower, and assume an olive hue. The electric light can scarcely
penetrate through the dense curtain which has dropped over the
theatre on which the battle of the elements is about to be waged.
I feel peculiar sensations, like many creatures on earth at the
approach of violent atmospheric changes. The heavily voluted cumulus
clouds lower gloomily and threateningly; they wear that implacable
look which I have sometimes noticed at the outbreak of a great storm.
The air is heavy; the sea is calm.
In the distance the clouds resemble great bales of cotton, piled up
Journey to the Center of the Earth |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Twelve Stories and a Dream by H. G. Wells: active. He shouted proclamations. When he wanted to speak to people he
stretched out an arm and held them until his purpose was accomplished.
One hand was full of papers, tickets, counterfoils of tourists.
The people of the personally conducted party were, it seemed,
of two sorts; people the conductor wanted and could not find,
and people he did not want and who followed him in a steadily
growing tail up and down the platform. These people seemed, indeed,
to think that their one chance of reaching Rome lay in keeping
close to him. Three little old ladies were particularly energetic
in his pursuit, and at last maddened him to the pitch of clapping
them into a carriage and daring them to emerge again. For the rest
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Virginian by Owen Wister: "He says with apparent pride," wrote Sarah, "that he has never
killed for pleasure or profit.' Those are his exact words, and
you may guess their dreadful effect upon mother. I congratulate
you, my dear, on having chosen a protector so scrupulous."
Thus her elder sister had seen fit to write; and letters from
less near relatives made hints at the same subject. So she was
compelled to accept this piece of knowledge thrust upon her. Yet
still, still, those events had been before she knew him. They
were remote, without detail or context. He had been little more
than a boy. No doubt it was to save his own life. And so she bore
the hurt of her discovery all the more easily because her
The Virginian |
