| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Lesser Bourgeoisie by Honore de Balzac: People know what I think of Felix; well, I put the two on the same
line; indeed, I wish my son had a little more of Monsieur de la
Peyrade's beautiful piety."
"You are right; he is a man of great merit, who is sure to succeed,"
said Minard. "As for me, my suffrages--for I really ought not to say
protection--are his."
"He pays more for oil than for bread," said Dutocq. "I know that."
"His mother, if he has the happiness to still possess her, must be
proud of him," remarked Madame Thuillier, sententiously.
"He is a real treasure for us," said Thuillier. "If you only knew how
modest he is! He doesn't do himself justice."
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Betty Zane by Zane Grey: the rough shingles were like tinder, and the inflammable material burst
quickly into great flames, lighting up the valley as far as the edge of the
forest. It was an awe-inspiring and a horrible spectacle. Columns of yellow
and black smoke rolled heavenward; every object seemed dyed a deep crimson;
the trees assumed fantastic shapes; the river veiled itself under a red glow.
Above the roaring and crackling of the flames rose the inhuman yelling of the
savages. Like demons of the inferno they ran to and fro, their naked painted
bodies shining in the glare. One group of savages formed a circle and danced
hands-around a stump as gayly as a band of school-girls at a May party. They
wrestled with and hugged one another; they hopped, skipped and jumped, and in
every possible war manifested their fiendish joy.
Betty Zane |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Soul of a Bishop by H. G. Wells: a steely-blue sky full of colourless light filled a stiff-necked
world with whitish high lights and inky shadows. These bright
harsh days of barometric high pressure in England rouse and
thwart every expectation of the happiness of spring. And as the
bishop drove through the afternoon in a hired fly along a rutted
road of slag between fields that were bitterly wired against the
Sunday trespasser, he fell into a despondent meditation upon the
political and social outlook.
His thoughts were of a sort not uncommon in those days. The
world was strangely restless. Since the passing of Victoria the
Great there had been an accumulating uneasiness in the national
|
