| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Secret Places of the Heart by H. G. Wells: worth while. And that somehow the war came to alter the look
of that promise.
"How?"
"I don't know. Perhaps I am only romancing. But for this
young woman I am convinced this expedition to Europe has
meant experience, harsh educational experience and very
profound mental disturbance. There have been love
experiences; experiences that were something more than the
treats and attentions and proposals that made up her life
when she was sheltered over there. And something more than
that. What it is I don't know. The war has turned an ugly
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Faraday as a Discoverer by John Tyndall: interfere with the force of crystallization, which, in comparison
with the diamagnetic force, is enormous. 'Perhaps,' adds Faraday,
'if a longer time were allowed, and a permanent magnet used, a
better result might be obtained. I had built many hopes upon the
process.' This expression, and his writings abound in such,
illustrates what has been already said regarding his experiments
being suggested and guided by his theoretic conceptions. His mind
was full of hopes and hypotheses, but he always brought them to an
experimental test. The record of his planned and executed experiments
would, I doubt not, show a high ratio of hopes disappointed to hopes
fulfilled; but every case of fulfilment abolished all memory of
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from In the South Seas by Robert Louis Stevenson: was longer ere we spied the native village, standing (in the
universal fashion) close upon a curve of beach, close under a grove
of palms; the sea in front growling and whitening on a concave arc
of reef. For the cocoa-tree and the island man are both lovers and
neighbours of the surf. 'The coral waxes, the palm grows, but man
departs,' says the sad Tahitian proverb; but they are all three, so
long as they endure, co-haunters of the beach. The mark of
anchorage was a blow-hole in the rocks, near the south-easterly
corner of the bay. Punctually to our use, the blow-hole spouted;
the schooner turned upon her heel; the anchor plunged. It was a
small sound, a great event; my soul went down with these moorings
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