| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Garden Party by Katherine Mansfield: twenty-three times. Even now, though, when she said over to herself sadly
"We miss our dear father so much," she could have cried if she'd wanted to.
"Have you got enough stamps?" came from Constantia.
"Oh, how can I tell?" said Josephine crossly. "What's the good of asking
me that now?"
"I was just wondering," said Constantia mildly.
Silence again. There came a little rustle, a scurry, a hop.
"A mouse," said Constantia.
"It can't be a mouse because there aren't any crumbs," said Josephine.
"But it doesn't know there aren't," said Constantia.
A spasm of pity squeezed her heart. Poor little thing! She wished she'd
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from De Profundis by Oscar Wilde: than the life of a flower, is there anything that, for sheer
simplicity of pathos wedded and made one with sublimity of tragic
effect, can be said to equal or even approach the last act of
Christ's passion. The little supper with his companions, one of
whom has already sold him for a price; the anguish in the quiet
moon-lit garden; the false friend coming close to him so as to
betray him with a kiss; the friend who still believed in him, and
on whom as on a rock he had hoped to build a house of refuge for
Man, denying him as the bird cried to the dawn; his own utter
loneliness, his submission, his acceptance of everything; and along
with it all such scenes as the high priest of orthodoxy rending his
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Bickerstaff-Partridge Papers by Jonathan Swift: calmness: In this dispute, I am sensible the eyes not only of
England, but of all Europe, will be upon us; and the learned in
every country will, I doubt not, take part on that side, where
they find most appearance of reason and truth.
Without entering into criticisms of chronology about the hour of
his death, I shall only prove that Mr. Partridge is not alive.
And my first argument is thus: Above a thousand gentelmen having
bought his almanacks for this year, merely to find what he said
against me; at every line they read, they would lift up their
eyes, and cry out, betwixt rage and laughter, "They were sure no
man alive ever writ such damn'd stuff as this." Neither did I
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