| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Lily of the Valley by Honore de Balzac: When my dream, the dream into which this first contemplation of my
idol plunged me, came to an end and I heard her speaking of Monsieur
de Mortsauf, the thought came that a woman must belong to her husband,
and a raging curiosity possessed me to see the owner of this treasure.
Two emotions filled my mind, hatred and fear,--hatred which allowed of
no obstacles and measured all without shrinking, and a vague, but real
fear of the struggle, of its issue, and above all of HER.
"Here is Monsieur de Mortsauf," she said.
I sprang to my feet like a startled horse. Though the movement was
seen by Monsieur de Chessel and the countess, neither made any
observation, for a diversion was effected at this moment by the
The Lily of the Valley |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Jolly Corner by Henry James: recoiling in time from assurance. He had the whole house to deal
with, this fact was still there; only he now knew that uncertainty
alone could start him. He stole back from where he had checked
himself - merely to do so was suddenly like safety - and, making
blindly for the greater staircase, left gaping rooms and sounding
passages behind. Here was the top of the stairs, with a fine large
dim descent and three spacious landings to mark off. His instinct
was all for mildness, but his feet were harsh on the floors, and,
strangely, when he had in a couple of minutes become aware of this,
it counted somehow for help. He couldn't have spoken, the tone of
his voice would have scared him, and the common conceit or resource
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Tono Bungay by H. G. Wells: into Ewart's hands, speedily grew to an island doll's city all
our own.
One of the dolls, I privately decided, was like Beatrice.
One other holiday there was when I saw something of her--oddly
enough my memory of that second holiday in which she played a
part is vague--and then came a gap of a year, and then my
disgrace.
VIII
Now I sit down to write my story and tell over again things in
their order, I find for the first time how inconsecutive and
irrational a thing the memory can be. One recalls acts and cannot
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