| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Egmont by Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe: utterance to that which weighs upon my heart; I will not shoot my arrow in
vain. I know where he is vulnerable. For he is vulnerable.
Machiavel. Have you summoned the council? Will Orange attend?
Regent. I have sent for him to Antwerp. I will lay upon their shoulders the
burden of responsibility; they shall either strenuously co-operate with me
in quelling the evil, or at once declare themselves rebels. Let the letters be
completed without delay, and bring them for my signature. Then hasten to
despatch the trusty Vasca to Madrid, he is faithful and indefatigable; let
him use all diligence, that he may not be anticipated by common report,
that my brother, may receive the intelligence first through him. I will
myself speak with him ere he departs.
Egmont |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Country of the Pointed Firs by Sarah Orne Jewett: "I'm beat if I ain't aground after all!" mourned the captain
despondently.
But I could reach the bowsprit, and he pushed with the boat-
hook, while the wind veered round a little as if on purpose and
helped with the sail; so presently the boat was free and began to
drift out from shore.
"Used to call this p'int Joanna's wharf privilege, but 't has
worn away in the weather since her time. I thought one or two
bumps wouldn't hurt us none,--paint's got to be renewed, anyway,--
but I never thought she'd tetch. I figured on shyin' by," the
captain apologized. "She's too gre't a boat to handle well in
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Mirror of the Sea by Joseph Conrad: A look in the eyes of a shipmate, a low murmur in the most
sheltered spot where the watch on duty are huddled together, a
meaning moan from one to the other with a glance at the windward
sky, a sigh of weariness, a gesture of disgust passing into the
keeping of the great wind, become part and parcel of the gale. The
olive hue of hurricane clouds presents an aspect peculiarly
appalling. The inky ragged wrack, flying before a nor'-west wind,
makes you dizzy with its headlong speed that depicts the rush of
the invisible air. A hard sou'-wester startles you with its close
horizon and its low gray sky, as if the world were a dungeon
wherein there is no rest for body or soul. And there are black
The Mirror of the Sea |
