| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Personal Record by Joseph Conrad: marched rapidly toward the east (attended by a hang-dog Swiss
guide), with the mien of an ardent and fearless traveller. He
was clad in a knickerbocker suit, but as at the same time he wore
short socks under his laced boots, for reasons which, whether
hygienic or conscientious, were surely imaginative, his calves,
exposed to the public gaze and to the tonic air of high
altitudes, dazzled the beholder by the splendour of their
marble-like condition and their rich tone of young ivory. He was
the leader of a small caravan. The light of a headlong, exalted
satisfaction with the world of men and the scenery of mountains
illumined his clean-cut, very red face, his short, silver-white
A Personal Record |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Pierre Grassou by Honore de Balzac: by the patience and gentleness of a lamblike nature. The masters,
however, had no sympathy for the good lad; masters prefer bright
fellows, eccentric spirits, droll or fiery, or else gloomy and deeply
reflective, which argue future talent. Everything about Pierre Grassou
smacked of mediocrity. His nickname "Fougeres" (that of the painter in
the play of "The Eglantine") was the source of much teasing; but, by
force of circumstances, he accepted the name of the town in which he
had first seen light.
Grassou of Fougeres resembled his name. Plump and of medium height, he
had a dull complexion, brown eyes, black hair, a turned-up nose,
rather wide mouth, and long ears. His gentle, passive, and resigned
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Finished by H. Rider Haggard: dead woman called Mameena that I could scarcely have known them
apart. Ah! that was a great game I played in the Vale of Bones,
was it not, Macumazahn?"
"Yes, Zikali, yet I do not understand why it was played."
"Being so young you still have the impatience of youth,
Macumazahn, although your hair grows white. Wait a while and you
will understand all. Well, you lay that night on the topmost
rock of Isandhlwana, and there you saw and heard strange things.
You heard the rest of the white soldiers come and lie down to
rest among their dead brothers, and depart again unharmed. Oh!
what fools are these Zulu generals nowadays. They send out an
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