|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Misalliance by George Bernard Shaw:
idea: a most important idea.
MRS TARLETON. You always were one for ideas, John.
TARLETON. Youre right, Chickabiddy. What do I tell Johnny when he
brags about Tarleton's Underwear? It's not the underwear. The
underwear be hanged! Anybody can make underwear. Anybody can sell
underwear. Tarleton's Ideas: thats whats done it. Ive often thought
of putting that up over the shop.
BENTLEY. Take me into partnership when you do, old man. I'm wasted
on the underwear; but I shall come in strong on the ideas.
TARLETON. You be a good boy; and perhaps I will.
MRS TARLETON. _[scenting a plot against her beloved Johnny]_ Now,
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Purse by Honore de Balzac:
her own room, and returned carrying a pair of tall gilt
candlesticks with partly burnt wax candles, which she quickly
lighted, and without waiting for the bell to ring, she opened the
door of the outer room, where she set the lamp down. The sound of
a kiss given and received found an echo in Hippolyte's heart. The
young man's impatience to see the man who treated Adelaide with
so much familiarity was not immediately gratified; the newcomers
had a conversation, which he thought very long, in an undertone,
with the young girl.
At last Mademoiselle de Rouville returned, followed by two men,
whose costume, countenance, and appearance are a long story.
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Secret Places of the Heart by H. G. Wells:
Islam. I am bored by anyone who professes to have rights.
Damn their rights! Curse their rights! I am bored to death by
this year and by last year and by the prospect of next year.
I am bored--I am horribly bored--by my work. I am bored by
every sort of renunciation. I want to live with the woman I
love and I want to work within the limits of my capacity.
Curse all Hullo! Damn his eyes!--Steady, ah! The spark! . . .
Good! No skid."
He had come round a corner at five and twenty miles an hour
and had stopped his spark and pulled up neatly within a yard
of the fore-wheel of a waggon that was turning in the road so