| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen: said she, when dinner was over and they had drawn round
the fire; "are you still to be a great orator in spite of
yourself?"
"No. I hope my mother is now convinced that I have
no more talents than inclination for a public life!"
"But how is your fame to be established? for famous you
must be to satisfy all your family; and with no inclination
for expense, no affection for strangers, no profession,
and no assurance, you may find it a difficult matter."
"I shall not attempt it. I have no wish to be
distinguished; and have every reason to hope I never shall.
Sense and Sensibility |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde: - a somewhat large, black leather hand-bag, with handles to it - an
ordinary hand-bag in fact.
LADY BRACKNELL. In what locality did this Mr. James, or Thomas,
Cardew come across this ordinary hand-bag?
JACK. In the cloak-room at Victoria Station. It was given to him
in mistake for his own.
LADY BRACKNELL. The cloak-room at Victoria Station?
JACK. Yes. The Brighton line.
LADY BRACKNELL. The line is immaterial. Mr. Worthing, I confess I
feel somewhat bewildered by what you have just told me. To be
born, or at any rate bred, in a hand-bag, whether it had handles or
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Ball at Sceaux by Honore de Balzac: horse so suddenly that her uncle had the greatest difficulty in
following her, she had set off at such a pace.
"I am too old, it would seem, to understand these youthful spirits,"
said the old sailor to himself as he put his horse to a canter; "or
perhaps young people are not what they used to be. But what ails my
niece? Now she is walking at a foot-pace like a gendarme on patrol in
the Paris streets. One might fancy she wanted to outflank that worthy
man, who looks to me like an author dreaming over his poetry, for he
has, I think, a notebook in his hand. My word, I am a great simpleton!
Is not that the very young man we are in search of!"
At this idea the old admiral moderated his horse's pace so as to
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