| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte: Mr. Edgar's door: but I bespoke the announcement of it myself.
How changed I found him, even in those few days! He lay an image
of sadness and resignation awaiting his death. Very young he
looked: though his actual age was thirty-nine, one would have
called him ten years younger, at least. He thought of Catherine;
for he murmured her name. I touched his hand, and spoke.
'Catherine is coming, dear master!' I whispered; 'she is alive and
well; and will be here, I hope, to-night.'
I trembled at the first effects of this intelligence: he half rose
up, looked eagerly round the apartment, and then sank back in a
swoon. As soon as he recovered, I related our compulsory visit,
Wuthering Heights |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu by Sax Rohmer: (there is no doubt about the name, I think) `turned me out. . .
booming sound. . .lascar in. . .mortuary I could ident. . .
not for days, or suspici. . .Tuesday night in a different make
. . .snatch. . .pigtail. . .'"
"The pigtail again!" rapped Weymouth.
"She evidently burned the torn-out pages all together,"
continued Smith. "They lay flat, and this was in the middle.
I see the hand of retributive justice in that, Inspector. Now we
have a reference to a hunchback, and what follows amounts to this:
A lascar (amongst several other persons) went up somewhere--
presumably upstairs--at Shen-Yan's, and did not come down again.
The Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Buttered Side Down by Edna Ferber: hard bun in the back instead of braiding it carefully as usual,
crossed the room (it wasn't much of a trip), picked up the brush,
and stood looking down at it, her under lip caught between her
teeth. That is the humiliating part of losing your temper and
throwing things. You have to come down to picking them up, anyway.
Her lip still held prisoner, Gertie tossed the brush on the
bureau, fastened her nightgown at the throat with a safety pin,
turned out the gas and crawled into bed.
Perhaps the hard bun at the back of her head kept her awake.
She lay there with her eyes wide open and sleepless, staring into
the darkness.
Buttered Side Down |
