| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from 'Twixt Land & Sea by Joseph Conrad: better days and has moved high up in the hierarchy of Celestial
Host; but in the hierarchy of mere earthly Dutchmen, Heemskirk,
whose early days could not have been very splendid, was merely a
naval officer forty years of age, of no particular connections or
ability to boast of. He was commanding the Neptun, a little
gunboat employed on dreary patrol duty up and down the Archipelago,
to look after the traders. Not a very exalted position truly. I
tell you, just a common middle-aged lieutenant of some twenty-five
years' service and sure to be retired before long - that's all.
He never bothered his head very much as to what was going on in the
Seven Isles group till he learned from some talk in Mintok or
'Twixt Land & Sea |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Bride of Lammermoor by Walter Scott: rear that Caleb was calling loudly after them, desiring to speak
with his master. Ravenswood felt it would look singular to
neglect this summons, although inwardly cursing Caleb for his
impertinent officiousness; therefore he was compelled to
relinquish to Mr. Lockhard the aggreeable duty in which he was
engaged, and to ride back to the gate of the courtyard. Here he
was beginning, somewhat peevishly, to ask Caleb the cause of his
clamour, when the good old man exclaimed: "Whisht, sir!--whisht,
and let me speak just ae word that I couldna say afore folk;
there (putting into his lord's hand the money he had just
received)--there's three gowd pieces; and ye'll want siller up-
The Bride of Lammermoor |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Edingburgh Picturesque Notes by Robert Louis Stevenson: the mind. But upon the subject of our recent villa
architecture, I am frankly ready to mingle my tears with
Mr. Ruskin's, and it is a subject which makes one envious
of his large declamatory and controversial eloquence.
Day by day, one new villa, one new object of
offence, is added to another; all around Newington and
Morningside, the dismallest structures keep springing up
like mushrooms; the pleasant hills are loaded with them,
each impudently squatted in its garden, each roofed and
carrying chimneys like a house. And yet a glance of an
eye discovers their true character. They are not houses;
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