| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf: fell from him. Ah, yes, he said, holding his foot up for her to look
at, they were first-rate boots. There was only one man in England who
could make boots like that. Boots are among the chief curses of
mankind, he said. "Bootmakers make it their business," he exclaimed,
"to cripple and torture the human foot." They are also the most
obstinate and perverse of mankind. It had taken him the best part of
his youth to get boots made as they should be made. He would have her
observe (he lifted his right foot and then his left) that she had never
seen boots made quite that shape before. They were made of the finest
leather in the world, also. Most leather was mere brown paper and
cardboard. He looked complacently at his foot, still held in the air.
To the Lighthouse |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Statesman by Plato: STRANGER: Yet once more, we shall have to enact that if any one is
detected enquiring into piloting and navigation, or into health and the
true nature of medicine, or about the winds, or other conditions of the
atmosphere, contrary to the written rules, and has any ingenious notions
about such matters, he is not to be called a pilot or physician, but a
cloudy prating sophist;--further, on the ground that he is a corrupter of
the young, who would persuade them to follow the art of medicine or
piloting in an unlawful manner, and to exercise an arbitrary rule over
their patients or ships, any one who is qualified by law may inform against
him, and indict him in some court, and then if he is found to be persuading
any, whether young or old, to act contrary to the written law, he is to be
Statesman |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Hated Son by Honore de Balzac: The day after Beauvouloir's return he went to see his young master and
blamed him gently for shutting himself up in a single room, pointing
out to him the danger of leading a prison life in place of his former
free life in the open air.
"But this air is vast," replied Etienne. "The spirit of my mother is
in it."
The physician prevailed, however, by the gentle influence of
affection, in making Etienne promise that he would go out every day,
either on the seashore, or in the fields and meadows which were still
unknown to him. In spite of this, Etienne, absorbed in his memories,
remained yet another day at his window watching the sea, which offered
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