|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from From the Earth to the Moon by Jules Verne:
was but one universal feeling of surprise and alarm. Was it
possible to go to the aid of these bold travelers? No! for they
had placed themselves beyond the pale of humanity, by crossing
the limits imposed by the Creator on his earthly creatures.
They had air enough for _two_ months; they had victuals enough
for _twelve;-- but after that?_ There was only one man who
would not admit that the situation was desperate-- he alone had
confidence; and that was their devoted friend J. T. Maston.
Besides, he never let them get out of sight. His home was
henceforth the post at Long's Peak; his horizon, the mirror of
that immense reflector. As soon as the moon rose above the
From the Earth to the Moon
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Bunner Sisters by Edith Wharton:
solitude awaiting her when Evelina left. It was true that it would
be a tempered loneliness. They would not be far apart. Evelina
would "run in" daily from the clock-maker's; they would doubtless
take supper with her on Sundays. But already Ann Eliza guessed
with what growing perfunctoriness her sister would fulfill
these obligations; she even foresaw the day when, to get news of
Evelina, she should have to lock the shop at nightfall and go
herself to Mr. Ramy's door. But on that contingency she would not
dwell. "They can come to me when they want to--they'll always find
me here," she simply said to herself.
One evening Evelina came in flushed and agitated from her
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Waste Land by T. S. Eliot:
Paces about her room again, alone,
She smoothes her hair with automatic hand,
And puts a record on the gramophone.
'This music crept by me upon the waters'
And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.
O City city, I can sometimes hear
Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street, 260
The pleasant whining of a mandoline
And a clatter and a chatter from within
Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
Of Magnus Martyr hold
The Waste Land