| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Daisy Miller by Henry James: His companion, after this, ceased to pay any attention to the
curiosities of Chillon or the beauties of the lake; she opened fire
upon the mysterious charmer in Geneva whom she appeared to have
instantly taken it for granted that he was hurrying back to see.
How did Miss Daisy Miller know that there was a charmer in Geneva?
Winterbourne, who denied the existence of such a person,
was quite unable to discover, and he was divided between amazement
at the rapidity of her induction and amusement at the frankness
of her persiflage. She seemed to him, in all this,
an extraordinary mixture of innocence and crudity. "Does she never
allow you more than three days at a time?" asked Daisy ironically.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Astoria by Washington Irving: requisitions for various articles for the use of the
establishment, or the trade with the natives. An angry
correspondence took place, in which he complained bitterly of the
time wasted in "smoking and sporting parties," as he termed the
reconnoitering expeditions, and in clearing and preparing meadow
ground and turnip patches, instead of despatching his ship. At
length all these jarring matters were adjusted, if not to the
satisfaction, at least to the acquiescence of all parties. The
part of the cargo destined for the use of Astoria was landed, and
the ship left free to proceed on her voyage.
As the Tonquin was to coast to the north, to trade for peltries
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Vailima Letters by Robert Louis Stevenson: little handbook, the more chance it has of some utility.
Then the events are complicated, seven ships to tell of, and
sometimes three of them together; O, it was quite a job. But
I think I have my facts pretty correct, and for once, in my
sickening yarn, they are handsome facts: creditable to all
concerned; not to be written of - and I should think, scarce
to be read - without a thrill. I doubt I have got no
hurricane into it, the intricacies of the yarn absorbing me
too much. But there - it's done somehow, and time presses
hard on my heels. The book, with my best expedition, may
come just too late to be of use. In which case I shall have
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