| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Lost Princess of Oz by L. Frank Baum: catches cold. However, if you dare to face our powerful ruler, follow
me."
"We dare anything," said the Wizard, "so go ahead."
Through several marble corridors having lofty ceilings they passed,
finding each corridor and doorway guarded by servants. But these
servants of the palace were of the people and not giants, and they
were so thin that they almost resembled skeletons. Finally, they
entered a great circular room with a high, domed ceiling, where the
Czarover sat on a throne cut from a solid block of white marble and
decorated with purple silk hangings and gold tassels.
The ruler of these people was combing his eyebrows when our friends
The Lost Princess of Oz |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte: I shall be under those larch-trees. Mind! or I pay another visit,
whether Linton be in or not.'
He sent a rapid glance through the half-open door of the chamber,
and, ascertaining that what I stated was apparently true, delivered
the house of his luckless presence.
CHAPTER XVI
ABOUT twelve o'clock that night was born the Catherine you saw at
Wuthering Heights: a puny, seven-months' child; and two hours
after the mother died, having never recovered sufficient
consciousness to miss Heathcliff, or know Edgar. The latter's
distraction at his bereavement is a subject too painful to be dwelt
Wuthering Heights |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Deputy of Arcis by Honore de Balzac: We are no longer at the Hotel de la Poste, having left it for the
chateau; but thanks to the rivalry existing between the two inns, the
Poste and the Mulet, in the latter of which Monsieur de Trailles has
established his headquarters, we are kept informed of what is going on
in the town and among our enemies. Since our departure, as our late
landlord informs us, a Parisian journalist has arrived at his hotel.
This individual, whose name I do not know, at once announced himself
as Jack-the-giant-killer, sent down to reinforce with his Parisian vim
and vigor the polemic which the local press, subsidized by the "bureau
of public spirit," has directed against us.
In that there is nothing very grave or very gay; since the world was a
|
