| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Lucile by Owen Meredith: Then her fear changed in impulse; and hiding her face
On his breast, she hung lock'd in a clinging embrace
With her soft arms wound heavily round him, as though
She fear'd, if their clasp was relaxed, he would go:
Her smooth, naked shoulders, uncared for, convulsed
By sob after sob, while her bosom yet pulsed
In its pressure on his, as the effort within it
Lived and died with each tender tumultuous minute.
"O Alfred, O Alfred! forgive me," she cried--
"Forgive me!"
"Forgive you, my poor child!" he sigh'd;
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Son of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs: With sticks and knives the man's companions fell upon the
beast, while Paulvitch danced around the cursing snarling pack
mumbling and screaming pleas and threats. He saw his visions
of wealth rapidly dissipating before the weapons of the sailors.
The ape, however, proved no easy victim to the superior numbers
that seemed fated to overwhelm him. Rising from the sailor
who had precipitated the battle he shook his giant shoulders,
freeing himself from two of the men that were clinging to his
back, and with mighty blows of his open palms felled one after
another of his attackers, leaping hither and thither with the
agility of a small monkey.
The Son of Tarzan |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from In the Cage by Henry James: oddly enough, that if, shortly before the girl's interest in his
companion had sharpened her sense for the messages then
transmitted, her immediate vision of himself had the effect, while
she counted his seventy words, of preventing intelligibility. His
words were mere numbers, they told her nothing whatever; and after
he had gone she was in possession of no name, of no address, of no
meaning, of nothing but a vague sweet sound and an immense
impression. He had been there but five minutes, he had smoked in
her face, and, busy with his telegrams, with the tapping pencil and
the conscious danger, the odious betrayal that would come from a
mistake, she had had no wandering glances nor roundabout arts to
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