| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Golden Threshold by Sarojini Naidu: Of rigorous years, sad days and slumberless nights,
Performing thine inexorable rites.
For thy dark altars, balm nor milk nor rice,
But mine own soul thou'st ta'en for sacrifice:
All the rich honey of my youth's desire,
And all the sweet oils from my crushed life drawn,
And all my flower-like dreams and gem-like fire
Of hopes up-leaping like the light of dawn.
I have no more to give, all that was mine
Is laid, a wrested tribute, at thy shrine;
Let me depart, for my whole soul is wrung,
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy: in her time she spoke with cosmopolitan largeness of idea.
It was she who presently asked Jopp what was the parcel he
kept so snugly under his arm.
"Ah, therein lies a grand secret," said Jopp. "It is the
passion of love. To think that a woman should love one man
so well, and hate another so unmercifully."
"Who's the object of your meditation, sir?"
"One that stands high in this town. I'd like to shame her!
Upon my life, 'twould be as good as a play to read her love-
letters, the proud piece of silk and wax-work! For 'tis her
love-letters that I've got here."
The Mayor of Casterbridge |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Ball at Sceaux by Honore de Balzac: political lib----"
"Oh, we will not talk politics. I am a perfect old woman--ultra you
see. But I do not hinder young men from being revolutionary, so long
as they leave the King at liberty to disperse their assemblies."
When they had gone a little way, and the Count and his companion were
in the heart of the woods, the old sailor pointed out a slender young
birch sapling, pulled up his horse, took out one of his pistols, and
the bullet was lodged in the heart of the tree, fifteen paces away.
"You see, my dear fellow, that I am not afraid of a duel," he said
with comical gravity, as he looked at Monsieur Longueville.
"Nor am I," replied the young man, promptly cocking his pistol; he
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