|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Wife, et al by Anton Chekhov:
noisy; she was always singing Little Russian songs and laughing.
For the least thing she would go off into a ringing laugh --
'Ha-ha-ha!' We made our first thorough acquaintance with the
Kovalenkos at the headmaster's name-day party. Among the glum and
intensely bored teachers who came even to the name-day party as a
duty we suddenly saw a new Aphrodite risen from the waves; she
walked with her arms akimbo, laughed, sang, danced. . . . She
sang with feeling 'The Winds do Blow,' then another song, and
another, and she fascinated us all -- all, even Byelikov. He sat
down by her and said with a honeyed smile:
" 'The Little Russian reminds one of the ancient Greek in its
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Black Arrow by Robert Louis Stevenson:
forth and enter the nave of the sacred edifice.
The church was doubtfully lighted by the tapers upon the great
altar, and by a lamp or two that swung from the arched roof before
the private chapels of illustrious families. In the midst of the
choir the dead spy lay, his limbs piously composed, upon a bier.
A hurried mutter of prayer sounded along the arches; cowled figures
knelt in the stalls of the choir, and on the steps of the high
altar a priest in pontifical vestments celebrated mass.
Upon this fresh entrance, one of the cowled figures arose, and,
coming down the steps which elevated the level of the choir above
that of the nave, demanded from the leader of the four men what
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Silverado Squatters by Robert Louis Stevenson:
the depravities of two races and two civilizations. For all
his lust and vigour, he seemed to look cold upon me from the
valley of the shadow of the gallows. He imagined a vain
thing; and while he drained his cock-tail, Holbein's death
was at his elbow. Once, too, I fell in talk with another of
these flitting strangers - like the rest, in his shirt-
sleeves and all begrimed with dust - and the next minute we
were discussing Paris and London, theatres and wines. To
him, journeying from one human place to another, this was a
trifle; but to me! No, Mr. Lillie, I have not forgotten it.
And presently the city-tide was at its flood and began to