| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Reminiscences of Tolstoy by Leo Tolstoy: and consistent. You read it over next day, and have to throw the
whole thing away, because, good as it is, it misses the main
thing. There is no imagination in it, no subtlety, none of the
necessary something, none of that only just without which all
your cleverness is worth nothing. Another day you get up after a
bad night, with your nerves all on edge, and you think, 'To-day I
shall write well, at any rate.' And as a matter of fact, what
you write is beautiful, picturesque, with any amount of
imagination. You look it through again; it is no good, because it
is written stupidly. There is plenty of color, but not enough
intelligence.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain: shivers run over me. Then away out in the woods I
heard that kind of a sound that a ghost makes when it
wants to tell about something that's on its mind and
can't make itself understood, and so can't rest easy in
its grave, and has to go about that way every night
grieving. I got so down-hearted and scared I did wish
I had some company. Pretty soon a spider went
crawling up my shoulder, and I flipped it off and it lit
in the candle; and before I could budge it was all
shriveled up. I didn't need anybody to tell me that
that was an awful bad sign and would fetch me some
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Montezuma's Daughter by H. Rider Haggard: is too late; he was to leave for Mexico at the rising of the moon,
to stir up mischief against me because I granted you terms--not
that I fear him there, where his repute is small.'
'I do not lie indeed,' I answered. 'Much of this tale I can prove
if need be, and I tell you that I would give half the life that is
left to me to stand face to face in open fight with him again.
Ever he has escaped me, and the score between us is long.'
Now as I spoke thus it seemed to me that a cold and dreadful air
played upon my hands and brow and a warning sense of present evil
crept into my soul, overcoming me so that I could not stir or speak
for a while.
Montezuma's Daughter |
