| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Secret Agent by Joseph Conrad: But Mrs Verloc, gratified by her brother's docility, recommended
him not to dirty his clothes unduly in the country. At this Stevie
gave his sister, guardian and protector a look, which for the first
time in his life seemed to lack the quality of perfect childlike
trustfulness. It was haughtily gloomy. Mrs Verloc smiled.
"Goodness me! You needn't be offended. You know you do get
yourself very untidy when you get a chance, Stevie."
Mr Verloc was already gone some way down the street.
Thus in consequence of her mother's heroic proceedings, and of her
brother's absence on this villegiature, Mrs Verloc found herself
oftener than usual all alone not only in the shop, but in the
The Secret Agent |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Options by O. Henry: You haven't by any accident gotten hold of a copy of one of Daniel
Webster's speeches, have you?"
Colonel Telfair swung a little in his chair and looked steadily from
under his bushy eyebrows at the magazine promoter.
"Mr. Thacker," he said, gravely, "I am willing to segregate the
somewhat crude expression of your sense of humor from the solicitude
that your business investments undoubtedly have conferred upon you.
But I must ask you to cease your jibes and derogatory comments upon
the South and the Southern people. They, sir, will not be tolerated
in the office of The Rose of Dixie for one moment. And before you
proceed with more of your covert insinuations that I, the editor of
Options |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Red Inn by Honore de Balzac: certain to bring him sleep. In a very short time after laying his head
on his mattress, he fell into that first fantastic somnolence which
precedes the deepest sleep. The senses then grew numb, and life is
abolished by degrees; thoughts are incomplete, and the last quivering
of our consciousness seems like a sort of reverie. "How heavy the air
is!" he thought; "I seem to be breathing a moist vapor." He explained
this vaguely to himself by the difference which must exist between the
atmosphere of the close room and the purer air by the river. But
presently he heard a periodical noise, something like that made by
drops of water falling from a robinet into a fountain. Obeying a
feeling of panic terror he was about to rise and call the innkeeper
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