| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Little Women by Louisa May Alcott: and find their little books also, one dove-colored, the other
blue, and all sat looking at and talking about them, while the
east grew rosy with the coming day.
In spite of her small vanities, Margaret had a sweet and
pious nature, which unconsciously influenced her sisters,
especially Jo, who loved her very tenderly, and obeyed her
because her advice was so gently given.
"Girls," said Meg seriously, looking from the tumbled head
beside her to the two little night-capped ones in the room beyond,
"Mother wants us to read and love and mind these books, and we
must begin at once. We used to be faithful about it, but since
Little Women |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The People That Time Forgot by Edgar Rice Burroughs: existed beyond Caspak and the life she knew.
Artless though many of her questions were, they evidenced a
keen intellect and a shrewdness which seemed far beyond her
years of her experience. Altogether I was finding my little
savage a mighty interesting and companionable person, and I
often thanked the kind fate that directed the crossing of
our paths. From her I learned much of Caspak, but there still
remained the mystery that had proved so baffling to Bowen
Tyler--the total absence of young among the ape, the semihuman
and the human races with which both he and I had come in
contact upon opposite shores of the inland sea. Ajor tried to
The People That Time Forgot |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Louis Lambert by Honore de Balzac: judge by a line of too many feet which became famous among my
companions--the beginning of an epic on the Incas:
"O Inca! O roi infortune et malheureux!"
In derision of such attempts, I was nicknamed the Poet, but mockery
did not cure me. I was always rhyming, in spite of good advice from
Monsieur Mareschal, the headmaster, who tried to cure me of an
unfortunately inveterate passion by telling me the fable of a linnet
that fell out of the nest because it tried to fly before its wings
were grown. I persisted in my reading; I became the least emulous, the
idlest, the most dreamy of all the division of "little boys," and
consequently the most frequently punished.
Louis Lambert |
