| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Case of The Lamp That Went Out by Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner: "Yes, I have a great deal to do to-day," replied the detective and
nodded to the prisoner as he knocked on the door. "I am glad you
remembered that," he added, "it will be of use to us, I think."
The warder opened the door, let Muller out, and the heavy iron
portal clanged again between Knoll and freedom.
Muller was quite satisfied with the result of his visit to the
accused. He hurried to the nearest cab stand and entered one of
the carriages waiting there. He gave the driver Mrs. Klingmayer's
address. It was about two o'clock in the afternoon now and Muller
had had nothing to eat yet. But he was quite unaware of the fact
as his mind was so busy that no mere physical sensation could
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Walking by Henry David Thoreau: late to redeem the day, when the shades of night were already
beginning to be mingled with the daylight, have felt as if I had
committed some sin to be atoned for,--I confess that I am
astonished at the power of endurance, to say nothing of the moral
insensibility, of my neighbors who confine themselves to shops
and offices the whole day for weeks and months, aye, and years
almost together. I know not what manner of stuff they are
of--sitting there now at three o'clock in the afternoon, as if it
were three o'clock in the morning. Bonaparte may talk of the
three-o'clock-in-the-morning courage, but it is nothing to the
courage which can sit down cheerfully at this hour in the
Walking |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Philosophy 4 by Owen Wister: and gas. Their leather belts were loosened, their soft pink shirts
unbuttoned at the collar. They were listening with gloomy voracity to
the instruction of a third. They sat at a table bared of its customary
sporting ornaments, and from time to time they questioned, sucked their
pencils, and scrawled vigorous, laconic notes. Their necks and faces
shone with the bloom of out-of-doors. Studious concentration was
evidently a painful novelty to their features. Drops of perspiration
came one by one from their matted hair, and their hands dampened the
paper upon which they wrote. The windows stood open wide to the May
darkness, but nothing came in save heat and insects; for spring, being
behind time, was making up with a sultry burst at the end, as a delayed
|
