| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Herbert West: Reanimator by H. P. Lovecraft: Despite the obvious danger of attracting notice and bringing down
on our heads the dreaded police investigation -- a thing which
after all was mercifully averted by the relative isolation of
our cottage -- my friend suddenly, excitedly, and unnecessarily
emptied all six chambers of his revolver into the nocturnal visitor.
For that visitor was neither Italian nor policeman. Looming
hideously against the spectral moon was a gigantic misshapen thing
not to be imagined save in nightmares -- a glassy-eyed, ink-black
apparition nearly on all fours, covered with bits of mould, leaves,
and vines, foul with caked blood, and having between its glistening
teeth a snow-white, terrible, cylindrical object terminating in
Herbert West: Reanimator |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Art of Writing by Robert Louis Stevenson: written by and for two senses: a sort of internal ear, quick
to perceive 'unheard melodies'; and the eye, which directs
the pen and deciphers the printed phrase. Well, even as
there are rhymes for the eye, so you will find that there are
assonances and alliterations; that where an author is running
the open A, deceived by the eye and our strange English
spelling, he will often show a tenderness for the flat A; and
that where he is running a particular consonant, he will not
improbably rejoice to write it down even when it is mute or
bears a different value.
Here, then, we have a fresh pattern - a pattern, to speak
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Beauty and The Beast by Bayard Taylor: the cold had become intense. Fresh game was skewered and set to
broil, and the tragic interlude of the revel was soon forgotten.
Towards midnight the sound of hoofs was heard, and the messengers
arrived with Crop-Ear. But, although the latter had lost his ears,
he was not inclined to split his head. The ice, meanwhile, had
become so strong that a cannon-ball would have made no impression
upon it. Crop-Ear simply threw down a stone heavier than himself,
and, as it bounced and slid along the solid floor, said to Prince
Alexis,--
"Am I to go back, Highness, or stay here?"
"Here, my son. Thou'rt a man. Come hither to me."
|
