| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens: following their course upon the roof and pointing them out to their
companions: all raging and roaring like the flames they lighted up.
They saw some men thirsting for the treasures of strong liquor
which they knew were stored within; they saw others, who had been
wounded, sinking down into the opposite doorways and dying,
solitary wretches, in the midst of all the vast assemblage; here a
frightened woman trying to escape; and there a lost child; and
there a drunken ruffian, unconscious of the death-wound on his
head, raving and fighting to the last. All these things, and even
such trivial incidents as a man with his hat off, or turning round,
or stooping down, or shaking hands with another, they marked
Barnaby Rudge |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Arrow of Gold by Joseph Conrad: aspect had no relief; yet those restless side-whiskers flanking his
red mouth and the suspicious expression of his black eyes made him
noticeable. This I regretted the more because I caught sight of
two skulking fellows, looking very much like policemen in plain
clothes, watching us from a corner of the great hall. I hurried my
man into a fiacre. He had been travelling from early morning on
cross-country lines and after we got on terms a little confessed to
being very hungry and cold. His red lips trembled and I noted an
underhand, cynical curiosity when he had occasion to raise his eyes
to my face. I was in some doubt how to dispose of him but as we
rolled on at a jog trot I came to the conclusion that the best
The Arrow of Gold |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Maggie: A Girl of the Streets by Stephen Crane: Her good, motherly face was wet with tears. She trembled in
eagerness to express her sympathy. The mourner sat with bowed head,
rocking her body heavily to and fro, and crying out in a high,
strained voice that sounded like a dirge on some forlorn pipe.
"I kin remember when she weared worsted boots an' her two
feets was no bigger dan yer t'umb an' she weared worsted boots,
Miss Smith," she cried, raising her streaming eyes.
"Ah, me poor Mary," sobbed the woman in black. With low,
coddling cries, she sank on her knees by the mourner's chair,
and put her arms about her. The other women began to groan
in different keys.
Maggie: A Girl of the Streets |
