| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Iliad by Homer: chariot you may bring both of us to a mischief."
But Antilochus plied his whip, and drove faster, as though he had
not heard him. They went side by side for about as far as a young
man can hurl a disc from his shoulder when he is trying his
strength, and then Menelaus's mares drew behind, for he left off
driving for fear the horses should foul one another and upset the
chariots; thus, while pressing on in quest of victory, they might
both come headlong to the ground. Menelaus then upbraided
Antilochus and said, "There is no greater trickster living than
you are; go, and bad luck go with you; the Achaeans say not well
that you have understanding, and come what may you shall not bear
The Iliad |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Simple Soul by Gustave Flaubert: through that imagination which springs from true affection, she at
once became the child, whose face and dress became hers, whose heart
beat in her bosom, and when Virginia opened her mouth and closed her
lids, she did likewise and came very near fainting.
The following day, she presented herself early at the church so as to
receive communion from the cure. She took it with the proper feeling,
but did not experience the same delight as on the previous day.
Madame Aubain wished to make an accomplished girl of her daughter; and
as Guyot could not teach English or music, she decided to send her to
the Ursulines at Honfleur.
The child made no objection, but Felicite sighed and thought Madame
A Simple Soul |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Ancient Regime by Charles Kingsley: typical novel of the Ancien Regime. A picture of Spanish society,
written by a Frenchman, it was held to be--and doubtless with
reason--a picture of the whole European world. Its French editor
(of 1836) calls it a grande epopee; "one of the most prodigious
efforts of intelligence, exhausting all forms of humanity"--in fact,
a second Shakespeare, according to the lights of the year 1715. I
mean, of course, "Gil Blas." So picturesque is the book, that it
has furnished inexhaustible motifs to the draughtsman. So excellent
is its workmanship, that the enthusiastic editor of 1836 tells us--
and doubtless he knows best--that it is the classic model of the
French tongue; and that, as Le Sage "had embraced all that belonged
|
