| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Europeans by Henry James: But I assure you I insist upon their being rich."
Felix leaned his head upon the back of the sofa and looked awhile
at the oblong patch of sky to which the window served as frame.
The snow was ceasing; it seemed to him that the sky had begun to brighten.
"I count upon their being rich," he said at last, "and powerful, and clever,
and friendly, and elegant, and interesting, and generally delightful!
Tu vas voir." And he bent forward and kissed his sister. "Look there!"
he went on. "As a portent, even while I speak, the sky is turning
the color of gold; the day is going to be splendid."
And indeed, within five minutes the weather had changed.
The sun broke out through the snow-clouds and jumped into
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Betty Zane by Zane Grey: dreams must be dispelled forever. He could barely wait until the end of the
service. He wanted to be alone; to fight it out with himself; to crush out of
his heart that fair image. At length the hour ended and he got out before the
congregation and hurried to his room.
Betty had company all that afternoon and it was late in the day when Col. Zane
ascended the stairs and entered her room to find her alone.
"Betty, I wish to know why you ignored Mr. Clarke this morning?" said Col.
Zane, looking down on his sister. There was a gleam in his eye and an
expression about his mouth seldom seen in the Colonel's features.
"I do not know that it concerns any one but myself," answered Betty quickly,
as her head went higher and her eyes flashed with a gleam not unlike that in
Betty Zane |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Memories and Portraits by Robert Louis Stevenson: and I was made for the moment as happy as a reader has the right to
be.
To come at all at the nature of this quality of romance, we must
bear in mind the peculiarity of our attitude to any art. No art
produces illusion; in the theatre we never forget that we are in
the theatre; and while we read a story, we sit wavering between two
minds, now merely clapping our hands at the merit of the
performance, now condescending to take an active part in fancy with
the characters. This last is the triumph of romantic story-
telling: when the reader consciously plays at being the hero, the
scene is a good scene. Now in character-studies the pleasure that
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