| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Market-Place by Harold Frederic: out his apprehension by a comprehensive gesture.
Later, when he had completed his task, and one of the two
narrow outlets from the shop in front was satisfactorily
blocked with the wares from without, and all the floor
about reeked with the grimy drippings of the oilskins,
Mrs. Dabney summoned him to the desk in the rear.
"I think you may go home now," she said to him, with the
laconic abruptness to which he was so well accustomed.
"You have a home, haven't you?"
Remembering the exhaustive enquiries which the Mission people
had made about him and his belongings, as a preliminary
The Market-Place |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Deserted Woman by Honore de Balzac: sense of their power yet longer, knowing instinctively as they do that
it must soon grow less. But, after all, these little boudoir
protocols, less numerous than those of the Congress of London, are too
small to be worth mention in the history of this passion.
For three years Mme. de Beauseant and M. de Nueil lived in the villa
on the lake of Geneva. They lived quite alone, received no visitors,
caused no talk, rose late, went out together upon the lake, knew, in
short, the happiness of which we all of us dream. It was a simple
little house, with green shutters, and broad balconies shaded with
awnings, a house contrived of set purpose for lovers, with its white
couches, soundless carpets, and fresh hangings, everything within it
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Blue Flower by Henry van Dyke: upright, and lifted his hands high toward heaven.
"Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee, O Lord! O my
God, be merciful to me, for my soul trusteth in Thee. My God,
Thou hast given; take not Thy gift away from me, O my God!
Spare the life of this my child, O Thou God, my Father, my
Father!"
A deep hush followed the cry. "Listen!" whispered
Athenais, breathlessly.
Was it an echo? It could not be, for it came again--the
voice of the child, clear and low, waking from sleep, and
calling: "Father!"
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