|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from In a German Pension by Katherine Mansfield:
wretched spare room. Had to put the confounded thing under his pillow.
"Half-past eight, Sunday, breakfast at nine--time for the bath"--his brain
ticked to the watch. He sprang out of bed and went over to the window.
The venetian blind was broken, hung fan-shaped over the upper pane..."That
blind must be mended. I'll get the office boy to drop in and fix it on his
way home to-morrow--he's a good hand at blinds. Give him twopence and
he'll do it as well as a carpenter...Anna could do it herself if she was
all right. So would I, for the matter of that, but I don't like to trust
myself on rickety step-ladders." He looked up at the sky: it shone,
strangely white, unflecked with cloud; he looked down at the row of garden
strips and backyards. The fence of these gardens was built along the edge
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz by L. Frank Baum:
there were in a strong prison from which there was no hope of escape.
"But we're ALMOST on earth again," cried Dorothy, "for there is the
sun--the most BEAU'FUL sun that shines!" and she pointed eagerly at
the crack in the distant roof.
"Almost on earth isn't being there," said the kitten, in a
discontented tone. "It wouldn't be possible for even me to get up to
that crack--or through it if I got there."
"It appears that the path ends here," announced the Wizard, gloomily.
"And there is no way to go back," added Zeb, with a low whistle
"I was sure it would come to this, in the end," remarked the old
Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Virginian by Owen Wister:
Now we, of course, had mounted at the beginning of the better
trail after the steep rock, and that was quite half a mile back.
Still, I had a natural explanation. "He's leading a packhorse.
He's a poor trapper, and walks."
"Packhorses ain't usually shod before and behind," said the
Virginian; and sliding to the ground he touched the footprints.
"They are not four hours old," said he. "This bank's in shadow by
one o'clock, and the sun has not cooked them dusty."
We continued on our way; and although it seemed no very
particular thing to me that a man should choose to walk and lead
his horse for a while,--I often did so to limber my