| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Touchstone by Edith Wharton: generalizations about death that do not disturb the repose of the
living. Glennard's eye, as he followed the way indicated to him,
had instinctively sought some low mound with a quiet headstone.
He had forgotten that the dead seldom plan their own houses, and
with a pang he discovered the name he sought on the cyclopean base
of a granite shaft rearing its aggressive height at the angle of
two avenues.
"How she would have hated it!" he murmured.
A bench stood near and he seated himself. The monument rose
before him like some pretentious uninhabited dwelling; he could
not believe that Margaret Aubyn lay there. It was a Sunday
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Monster Men by Edgar Rice Burroughs: Scarcely had they covered half the distance before one
of the Dyaks whose duty it had been to guard the girl
discovered that she was gone. With a cry he alarmed
his fellows, and in another instant a sharp pair of eyes
caught the movement of the four who had now broken into a run.
With savage shouts the entire force of head hunters
sprang in pursuit. Bulan lifted Virginia in his arms
and dashed on ahead of Number Twelve and Number Three.
A shower of poisoned darts blown from half a hundred
sumpitans fell about them, and then Muda Saffir called
to his warriors to cease using their deadly blow-pipes
The Monster Men |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Early Short Fiction of Edith Wharton by Edith Wharton: "No, Madam. He's never been back."
The dread stirred again, and Mary knew that now it had her fast.
"Not since he went out with--the gentleman?"
"Not since he went out with the gentleman."
"But who WAS the gentleman?" Mary gasped out, with the sharp note
of some one trying to be heard through a confusion of meaningless
noises.
"That I couldn't say, Madam." Trimmle, standing there by the
lamp, seemed suddenly to grow less round and rosy, as though
eclipsed by the same creeping shade of apprehension.
"But the kitchen-maid knows--wasn't it the kitchen-maid who let
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