| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Shadow out of Time by H. P. Lovecraft: consciousness with a range of vision wider than the normal, floating
freely about, yet confined to the ordinary avenues and speeds
of travel. Not until August, 1915, did any suggestions of bodily
existence begin to harass me. I say harass, because the first
phase was a purely abstract, though infinitely terrible, association
of my previously noted body loathing with the scenes of my visions.
For a while my chief concern during dreams was to avoid looking
down at myself, and I recall how grateful I was for the total
absence of large mirrors in the strange rooms. I was mightily
troubled by the fact that I always saw the great tables - whose
height could not be under ten feet - from a level not below that
Shadow out of Time |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Merry Men by Robert Louis Stevenson: that to attract the fancy of a dashing officer.'
'And yet you say they are high-born,' I objected.
'Well, as to that, I should distinguish,' returned the doctor.
'The mother is; not so the children. The mother was the last
representative of a princely stock, degenerate both in parts and
fortune. Her father was not only poor, he was mad: and the girl
ran wild about the residencia till his death. Then, much of the
fortune having died with him, and the family being quite extinct,
the girl ran wilder than ever, until at last she married, Heaven
knows whom, a muleteer some say, others a smuggler; while there are
some who uphold there was no marriage at all, and that Felipe and
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Street of Seven Stars by Mary Roberts Rinehart: struck so deep into his soul. With Peter it was a life-and-death
matter.
Clinics and lectures had begun again, but he had no heart for
work. The little household went on methodically. Marie remained;
there had seemed nothing else to do. She cooked Peter's
food--what little he would eat; she nursed Jimmy while Peter was
out on the long search; and she kept the apartment neat. She was
never intrusive, never talkative. Indeed, she seemed to have
lapsed into definite silence. She deferred absolutely to Peter,
adored him, indeed, from afar. She never ate with him, in spite
of his protests.
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