|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Secret Sharer by Joseph Conrad:
"An ugly business."
He had rather regular features; a good mouth; light eyes under
somewhat heavy, dark eyebrows; a smooth, square forehead; no growth
on his cheeks; a small, brown mustache, and a well-shaped, round chin.
His expression was concentrated, meditative, under the inspecting
light of the lamp I held up to his face; such as a man thinking
hard in solitude might wear. My sleeping suit was just right
for his size. A well-knit young fellow of twenty-five at most.
He caught his lower lip with the edge of white, even teeth.
"Yes," I said, replacing the lamp in the binnacle.
The warm, heavy tropical night closed upon his head again.
The Secret Sharer
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Moon-Face and Other Stories by Jack London:
the canyon ended in a chaos of rocks, moss-covered and hidden by a green
screen of vines and creepers and boughs of trees. Up the canyon rose far hills
and peaks, the big foothills, pine-covered and remote. And far beyond, like
clouds upon the border of the slay, towered minarets of white, where the
Sierra's eternal snows flashed austerely the blazes of the sun.
There was no dust in the canyon. The leaves and flowers were clean and
virginal. The grass was young velvet. Over the pool three cottonwoods sent
their scurvy fluffs fluttering down the quiet air. On the slope the blossoms
of the wine-wooded manzanita filled the air with springtime odors, while the
leaves, wise with experience, were already beginning their vertical twist
against the coming aridity of summer. In the open spaces on the slope, beyond
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Moran of the Lady Letty by Frank Norris:
"Miss Herrick," he said, "this is Moran--Moran Sternersen."
Moran took a step forward, holding out her hand. Josie, all
bewildered, put her tight-gloved fingers into the calloused palm,
looking up nervously into Moran's face.
"I'm sure," she said feebly, almost breathlessly, "I--I'm sure I'm
very pleased to meet Miss Sternersen."
It was long before the picture left Wilbur's imagination. Josie
Herrick, petite, gowned in white, crisp from her maid's grooming;
and Moran, sea-rover and daughter of a hundred Vikings, towering
above her, booted and belted, gravely clasping Josie's hand in her
own huge fist.