| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Father Goriot by Honore de Balzac: "Very well then, she is going to the Marechale Carigliano's ball
on Monday. If you can manage to be there, I shall hear from you
whether my two girls enjoyed themselves, and how they were
dressed, and all about it in fact."
"How did you find that out, my good Goriot?" said Eugene, putting
a chair by the fire for his visitor.
"Her maid told me. I hear all about their doings from Therese and
Constance," he added gleefully.
The old man looked like a lover who is still young enough to be
made happy by the discovery of some little stratagem which brings
him information of his lady-love without her knowledge.
 Father Goriot |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Road to Oz by L. Frank Baum: way, although she was quite sure she could find the rooms herself.
She took Button-Bright with her, because he seemed too small to be
left alone in such a big palace; but Jellia Jamb herself ushered the
beautiful Daughter of the Rainbow to her apartments, because it was
easy to see that Polychrome was used to splendid palaces and was
therefore entitled to especial attention.
19. The Shaggy Man's Welcome
The shaggy man stood in the great hall, his shaggy hat in his hands,
wondering what would become of him. He had never been a guest in a
fine palace before; perhaps he had never been a guest anywhere. In
the big, cold, outside world people did not invite shaggy men to their
 The Road to Oz |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf: a golden mesh? or did she lock up within her some secret which certainly
Lily Briscoe believed people must have for the world to go on at all?
Every one could not be as helter skelter, hand to mouth as she was. But
if they knew, could they tell one what they knew? Sitting on the floor
with her arms round Mrs Ramsay's knees, close as she could get, smiling
to think that Mrs Ramsay would never know the reason of that pressure, she
imagined how in the chambers of the mind and heart of the woman who was,
physically, touching her, were stood, like the treasures in the tombs of
kings, tablets bearing sacred inscriptions, which if one could spell them
out, would teach one everything, but they would never be offered openly,
never made public. What art was there, known to love or cunning, by which
 To the Lighthouse |