|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu by Sax Rohmer:
and Inspector Weymouth raised his hands in the dimness and partly
slipped the bandage from his mouth.
"I've been working at the cords since we left those filthy cellars,"
he whispered. "My wrists are all cut, but when I've got out a knife
and freed my ankles--"
Smith had kicked him with his bound feet. The detective slipped
the bandage back to position and placed his hands behind him again.
Dr. Fu-Manchu, wearing a heavy overcoat but no hat, came aft.
He was dragging Karamaneh by the wrists. He seated himself
on the cushions near to us, pulling the girl down beside him.
Now, I could see her face--and the expression in her beautiful
The Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Royalty Restored/London Under Charles II by J. Fitzgerald Molloy:
Whereon Wycherley conceived the idea of bringing Butler and the
duke together, that the latter might the more certainly remember
him. He therefore succeeded in making his grace name an hour and
place in which they might meet. So it came to pass they were
together one day at the Roebuck Tavern; but scarce had Buckingham
opened his lips when a pimp of his acquaintance--"the creature
was likewise a knight"--passed by with a couple of ladies. To a
man of Buckingham's character the temptation was too seductive to
be neglected; accordingly, he darted after those who allured him,
leaving the needy poet, whom he saw no more. Butler lived until
1680, dying in poverty. Longueville, having in vain solicited a
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Firm of Nucingen by Honore de Balzac:
thanks to her want of heart----"
"Who is this?"
"The Marquise d'Espard. She said that a young man ought to live on an
entresol; there should be no sign of domesticity about the place; no
cook, no kitchen, an old manservant to wait upon him, and no pretence
of permanence. In her opinion, any other sort of establishment is bad
form. Godefroid de Beaudenord, faithful to this programme, lodged on
an entresol on the Quai Malaquais; he had, however, been obliged to
have this much in common with married couples, he had put a bedstead
in his room, though for that matter it was so narrow that he seldom
slept in it. An Englishwoman might have visited his rooms and found