| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Nana, Miller's Daughter, Captain Burle, Death of Olivier Becaille by Emile Zola: As to Lucy Stewart, she quietly confessed to her origin and of her
own accord spoke of her childhood and of the days when her father,
the wheel greaser at the Northern Railway Terminus, used to treat
her to an apple puff on Sundays.
"Oh, I must tell you about it!" cried the little Maria Blond
abruptly. "Opposite to me there lives a gentleman, a Russian, an
awfully rich man! Well, just fancy, yesterday I received a basket
of fruit--oh, it just was a basket! Enormous peaches, grapes as big
as that, simply wonderful for the time of year! And in the middle
of them six thousand-franc notes! It was the Russian's doing. Of
course I sent the whole thing back again, but I must say my heart
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence: window, and saw the dark little room, with its almost sinister privacy,
not wanting to be invaded.
She stood and listened, and it seemed to her she heard sounds from the
back of the cottage. Having failed to make herself heard, her mettle
was roused, she would not be defeated.
So she went round the side of the house. At the back of the cottage the
land rose steeply, so the back yard was sunken, and enclosed by a low
stone wall. She turned the corner of the house and stopped. In the
little yard two paces beyond her, the man was washing himself, utterly
unaware. He was naked to the hips, his velveteen breeches slipping down
over his slender loins. And his white slim back was curved over a big
Lady Chatterley's Lover |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from All's Well That Ends Well by William Shakespeare: The tread of a man's foot:--to the wars!
BERTRAM.
There's letters from my mother; what the import is
I know not yet.
PAROLLES.
Ay, that would be known. To the wars, my boy, to the wars!
He wears his honour in a box unseen
That hugs his kicksy-wicksy here at home,
Spending his manly marrow in her arms,
Which should sustain the bound and high curvet
Of Mars's fiery steed. To other regions!
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