| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Silas Marner by George Eliot: I tell Nancy, it's a folly no woman need be guilty of, if she's got
a good father and a good home: let her leave it to them as have got
no fortin, and can't help themselves. As I say,
Mr. Have-your-own-way is the best husband, and the only one I'd ever
promise to obey. I know it isn't pleasant, when you've been used to
living in a big way, and managing hogsheads and all that, to go and
put your nose in by somebody else's fireside, or to sit down by
yourself to a scrag or a knuckle; but, thank God! my father's a
sober man and likely to live; and if you've got a man by the
chimney-corner, it doesn't matter if he's childish--the business
needn't be broke up."
Silas Marner |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Stories From the Old Attic by Robert Harris: Arissa generously gave Sir Percival a look that could have frozen
several pounds of choice lobster, and replied, "You must be kidding."
Sir Percival thought about this answer for a couple of days, and
still finding his inclination toward the gentle Arissa unchanged,
he thought to make a clarificatory attempt, just in case the maiden
did believe he had been kidding. Approaching her the next morning,
Sir Percival said, "Kind Arissa, I wasn't kidding the other day.
Ifay, I'd like to date you." Only the author's extreme commitment
to complete truth forces him to admit that a tiny trace of irritation
now flashed, but only for the briefest of moments, across the lovely
Arissa's brow. "Get lost, creep," she said, clearly and distinctly.
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from An Inland Voyage by Robert Louis Stevenson: Europe. It was to be the most leisurely of progresses, now on a
swift river at the tail of a steam-boat, now waiting horses for
days together on some inconsiderable junction. We should be seen
pottering on deck in all the dignity of years, our white beards
falling into our laps. We were ever to be busied among paint-pots;
so that there should be no white fresher, and no green more emerald
than ours, in all the navy of the canals. There should be books in
the cabin, and tobacco-jars, and some old Burgundy as red as a
November sunset and as odorous as a violet in April. There should
be a flageolet, whence the CIGARETTE, with cunning touch, should
draw melting music under the stars; or perhaps, laying that aside,
|
