|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Market-Place by Harold Frederic:
had made themselves heard moving about, Thorpe got up.
It was a long time since he had liked himself and his
surroundings so little. The bed seemed all right to the eye,
and even to the touch, but he had slept very badly in it,
none the less. The room was luxuriously furnished, as was
the entire suite, but it was all strange and uncomfortable
to his senses. The operation of shaving and dressing
in solitude produced an oppression of loneliness.
He regretted not having brought his man with him for
this reason, and then, upon meditation, for other reasons.
A person of his position ought always to have a servant
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Riverman by Stewart Edward White:
cables stretched to the shore parted. One, which passed once around
an oak tree before reaching its shore anchorage, actually buried
itself out of sight in the hard wood. Bunches of piles bent,
twisted, or were cut off as though they had been but shocks of
Indian corn. The current had become so swift that the tugs could
not hold the drivers against it; and as a consequence, before
commencing operations, special mooring piles had to be driven. Each
minute threatened to bring an end to the jam, yet it held; and
without rest the dogged little insects under its face toiled to gain
an inch on the waters.
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from An Ideal Husband by Oscar Wilde:
terrible scene in this room, I wrote to him telling him that I
trusted him, that I had need of him, that I was coming to him for
help and advice. [SIR ROBERT CHILTERN takes the letter out of his
pocket.] Yes, that letter. I didn't go to Lord Goring's, after all.
I felt that it is from ourselves alone that help can come. Pride
made me think that. Mrs. Cheveley went. She stole my letter and
sent it anonymously to you this morning, that you should think . . .
Oh! Robert, I cannot tell you what she wished you to think. . . .
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What! Had I fallen so low in your eyes that
you thought that even for a moment I could have doubted your
goodness? Gertrude, Gertrude, you are to me the white image of all