| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence: 'Goodnight Clifford! DO sleep well! The Racine gets into one like a
dream. Goodnight!'
She had drifted to the door. She was going without kissing him
goodnight. He watched her with sharp, cold eyes. So! She did not even
kiss him goodnight, after he had spent an evening reading to her. Such
depths of callousness in her! Even if the kiss was but a formality, it
was on such formalities that life depends. She was a Bolshevik, really.
Her instincts were Bolshevistic! He gazed coldly and angrily at the
door whence she had gone. Anger!
And again the dread of the night came on him. He was a network of
nerves, anden he was not braced up to work, and so full of energy: or
Lady Chatterley's Lover |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Tanglewood Tales by Nathaniel Hawthorne: conjurors, of whom there were several in the crew, and who
could foretell what would happen to-morrow or the next day, or
a hundred years hence, but were generally quite unconscious of
what was passing at the moment.
Jason appointed Tiphys to be helmsman because he was a
star-gazer, and knew the points of the compass. Lynceus, on
account of his sharp sight, was stationed as a look-out in the
prow, where he saw a whole day's sail ahead, but was rather apt
to overlook things that lay directly under his nose. If the sea
only happened to be deep enough, however, Lynceus could tell
you exactly what kind of rocks or sands were at the bottom of
Tanglewood Tales |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Spirit of the Border by Zane Grey: then an owl hoot monotonously. A stealthy footed animal ran along the log,
sniffed at the boughs, and then scurried away over the dry leaves. By and by
the dead silence of night fell over all. Still Joe lay there wide awake,
listening--his heart on fire. He was about to rescue Nell; to kill that
hawk-nosed renegade; to fight Silvertip to the death.
The hours passed, but not Joe's passionate eagerness. When at least he saw the
crescent moon gleam silver-white over the black hilltop he knew the time was
nigh, and over him ran thrill on thrill.
Chapter XVI.
When the waning moon rose high enough to shed a pale light over forest and
field, two dark figures, moving silently from the shade of the trees, crossed
The Spirit of the Border |
