| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Rescue by Joseph Conrad: stillness would be so perfect that she would hear the flutter of
a pigeon's wing somewhere high up in the great overshadowing
trees. And suddenly one of the men before her without moving a
limb would begin another speech rendered more mysterious still by
the total absence of action or play of feature. Only the
watchfulness of the eyes which showed that the speaker was not
communing with himself made it clear that this was not a spoken
meditation but a flow of argument directed to Lingard who now and
then uttered a few words either with a grave or a smiling
expression. They were always followed by murmurs which seemed
mostly to her to convey assent; and then a reflective silence
The Rescue |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Misalliance by George Bernard Shaw: off. Short wind. I know. I'm ashamed of myself. I could do nothing
on the high rope.
LINA. Oh yes: I could put you in a wheelbarrow and run you along,
two hundred feet up.
TARLETON. _[shuddering]_ Ugh! Well, I'd do even that for you. Read
The Master Builder.
LINA. Have you learnt everything from books?
TARLETON. Well, have you learnt everything from the flying trapeze?
LINA. On the flying trapeze there is often another woman; and her
life is in your hands every night and your life in hers.
TARLETON. Lina: I'm going to make a fool of myself. I'm going to
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Vicar of Tours by Honore de Balzac: Birotteau, on the other hand, was all expansion, all frankness; he
loved good things and was amused by trifles with the simplicity of a
man who knew no spite or malice. The Abbe Troubert roused, at first
sight, an involuntary feeling of fear, while the vicar's presence
brought a kindly smile to the lips of all who looked at him. When the
tall canon marched with solemn step through the naves and cloisters of
Saint-Gatien, his head bowed, his eye stern, respect followed him;
that bent face was in harmony with the yellowing arches of the
cathedral; the folds of his cassock fell in monumental lines that were
worthy of statuary. The good vicar, on the contrary, perambulated
about with no gravity at all. He trotted and ambled and seemed at
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