| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Tess of the d'Urbervilles, A Pure Woman by Thomas Hardy: unquestionably traceable in these exaggerated forms.
He said nothing of this, however, and, regretting that
he had gone out of his way to choose the house for
their bridal time, went on into the adjoining room.
The place having been rather hastily prepared for them
they washed their hands in one basin. Clare touched
hers under the water.
"Which are my fingers and which are yours?" he said,
looking up. "They are very much mixed."
"They are all yours," said she, very prettily, and
endeavoured to be gayer than she was. He had not been
Tess of the d'Urbervilles, A Pure Woman |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Historical Lecturers and Essays by Charles Kingsley: very good lad, and lives on chicken broth and dried plums. But on
the tenth day comes on numbness of the left side, acute pains in the
head, and then gradually shivering, high fever, erysipelas. His
head and neck swell to an enormous size; then comes raging delirium,
then stupefaction, and Don Carlos lies as one dead.
A modern surgeon would, probably, thanks to that training of which
Vesalius may be almost called the father, have had little difficulty
in finding out what was the matter with the luckless lad, and little
difficulty in removing the evil, if it had not gone too far. But
the Spanish physicians were then, as many of them are said to be
still, as far behind the world in surgery as in other things; and
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Vailima Prayers & Sabbath Morn by Robert Louis Stevenson: fulfilled. The child who says his prayer at his mother's knee can
have no real conception of the meaning of the words he lisps so
readily, yet he goes to his little bed with a sense of heavenly
protection that he would miss were the prayer forgotten. The
average Samoan is but a larger child in most things, and would lay
an uneasy head on his wooden pillow if he had not joined, even
perfunctorily, in the evening service. With my husband, prayer,
the direct appeal, was a necessity. When he was happy he felt
impelled to offer thanks for that undeserved joy; when in sorrow,
or pain, to call for strength to bear what must be borne.
Vailima lay up some three miles of continual rise from Apia, and
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