| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Emmuska Orczy: food--remember you have need of all your strength."
The soup certainly was not bad; it smelt and tasted good.
Marguerite might have enjoyed it, but for the horrible surroundings.
She broke the bread, however, and drank some of the wine.
"Nay, Sir Andrew," she said, "I do not like to see you
standing. You have need of food just as much as I have. This
creature will only think that I am an eccentric Englishwoman eloping
with her lacquey, if you'll sit down and partake of this semblance of
supper beside me."
Indeed, Brogard having placed what was strictly necessary upon
the table, seemed not to trouble himself any further about his guests.
The Scarlet Pimpernel |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Amazing Interlude by Mary Roberts Rinehart: "And what about me?" Aunt Harriet had asked. " But I suppose I wouldn't
matter."
"You could go to Jennie's, couldn't you?"
There had followed one of those absurd wrangles as to whether or not Aunt
Harriet would go to Jennie's in the rather remote contingency of Uncle
James' becoming twenty years younger and going away.
And now Uncle James had taken on the wings of the morning and was indeed
gone away. And again it became a question of Jennie's. Aunt Harriet,
rather dazed at first, took to arguing it pro and con.
"Of course she has room for me," she would say in her thin voice.
"There's that little room that was Edgar's. There's nobody in it now.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Under the Andes by Rex Stout: the left, avoiding the right bank of the curve by less than a foot.
Once safely past, I sent Harry to the stern and took the bow
myself, which brought down upon him a deal of keen banter from
Desiree.
There the tunnel widened, and the raft began to glide easily
onward, without any of its sudden dashes to right or left. I
rested on my oar, gazing intently ahead; at the best I could make
out the walls a hundred yards ahead, and but dimly. All was
silence, save the gentle swish of the water against the sides of
the raft and the patter of Harry's oar dipping idly on one side or
the other.
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