| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson by Robert Louis Stevenson: thirty or forty pages of foul copy, twenty is the very least I have
had. Well, you pay high; it is fit that I should have to work
hard, it somewhat quiets my conscience. - Yours very truly,
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.
Letter: TO J. A. SYMONDS
SARANAC LAKE, ADIRONDACK MOUNTAINS, NEW YORK, U.S.A., NOVEMBER 21,
1887.
MY DEAR SYMONDS, - I think we have both meant and wanted to write
to you any time these months; but we have been much tossed about,
among new faces and old, and new scenes and old, and scenes (like
this of Saranac) which are neither one nor other. To give you some
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Hidden Masterpiece by Honore de Balzac: living life."
"Show my work!" exclaimed the old man, with deep emotion. "No, no! I
have still to bring it to perfection. Yesterday, towards evening, I
thought it was finished. Her eyes were liquid, her flesh trembled, her
tresses waved--she breathed! And yet, though I have grasped the secret
of rendering on a flat canvas the relief and roundness of nature, this
morning at dawn I saw many errors. Ah! to attain that glorious result,
I have studied to their depths the masters of color. I have analyzed
and lifted, layer by layer, the colors of Titian, king of light. Like
him, great sovereign of art, I have sketched my figure in light clear
tones of supple yet solid color; for shadow is but an accident,--
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Stories From the Old Attic by Robert Harris: let me ensconce you in my carriage and take you on a date." To
which Arissa replied, "Sorry Perce, I'm busy. I've got to
wash my hair."
To which the knight: "Well, when could you go then?"
To which Arissa: "Well, I'll be busy for the next ten years. I
mean, I've got stuff to do, forsooth."
Well, our hero was getting a bit despondent about all this, and for
sure his friends weren't helping much. Far from their giving him
encouragement, their laughter rang so constantly in Sir Percival's
head that he began to wonder if he was still quite sane. And not
a few of his friends hinted here and there that psychiatric
|
