|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Mistress Wilding by Rafael Sabatini:
'W' that occurs to him. He's not even an ingenious liar. And how,
sir," he asked Richard, "does it come to be in your possession, having
been addressed, as you say, to Mr. Wilding?"
"Aye, sir," said Sir Edward, blinking his weak eyes. "Tell us that."
Richard hesitated again, and looked at Blake. Blake, who by now had
come to realize that his friend's affairs were not mended by his
interruptions, moodily shrugged his shoulders, scowling.
"Come, sir," said Colonel Luttrell, engagingly, answer the question."
"Aye," roared Albemarle; "let your invention have free rein."
Again poor Richard sought refuge in the truth. "We - Sir Rowland here
and I - had reason to suspect that he was awaiting such a letter."
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Market-Place by Harold Frederic:
of something else. When he spoke, it was with no trace
of consciousness that the question had been unduly intimate.
"I can't in the least be sure that I shall ever marry,"
he replied, thoughtfully. "I may, and I may not.
But--starting with that proviso--I suppose I haven't
seen any other woman that I'd rather think about marrying
than--than the lady we're speaking of. However, you see
it's all in the air, so far as my plans go."
"In the air be it," the soldier acquiesced, plausibly.
"Let us consider it as if it were in the air--a
possible contingency. This is what I would say--My--
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence:
wind caught among the twigs. It, too, was caught and trying to tear
itself free, the wind, like Absalom. How cold the anemones looked,
bobbing their naked white shoulders over crinoline skirts of green. But
they stood it. A few first bleached little primroses too, by the path,
and yellow buds unfolding themselves.
The roaring and swaying was overhead, only cold currents came down
below. Connie was strangely excited in the wood, and the colour flew in
her cheeks, and burned blue in her eyes. She walked ploddingly, picking
a few primroses and the first violets, that smelled sweet and cold,
sweet and cold. And she drifted on without knowing where she was.
Till she came to the clearing, at the end of the wood, and saw the
Lady Chatterley's Lover