|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Melmoth Reconciled by Honore de Balzac:
"Who talks of stinting you?" asked Castanier, cutting him short. "You
shall have more gold than you could stow in the cellars of the Bank of
He held out a handful of notes. That decided Claparon.
"Done," he cried; "but how is the bargain to be make?"
"Let us go over yonder, no one is standing there," said Castanier,
pointing to a corner of the court.
Claparon and his tempter exchanged a few words, with their faces
turned to the wall. None of the onlookers guessed the nature of this
by-play, though their curiosity was keenly excited by the strange
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Little Britain by Washington Irving:
consider him a kind of conjurer, because he has two of three
stuffed alligators hanging up in his shop, and several snakes in
bottles. He is a great reader of almanacs and newspapers, and
is much given to pore over alarming accounts of plots,
conspiracies, fires, earthquakes, and volcanic eruptions; which
last phenomena he considers as signs of the times. He has
always some dismal tale of the kind to deal out to his customers,
with their doses; and thus at the same time puts both soul and
body into an uproar. He is a great believer in omens and
predictions; and has the prophecies of Robert Nixon and
Mother Shipton by heart. No man can make so much out of an
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Maggie: A Girl of the Streets by Stephen Crane:
Row who were circling madly about the heap and pelting at him.
His infantile countenance was livid with fury. His small body
was writhing in the delivery of great, crimson oaths.
"Run, Jimmie, run! Dey'll get yehs," screamed a retreating
Rum Alley child.
"Naw," responded Jimmie with a valiant roar, "dese micks can't
make me run."
Howls of renewed wrath went up from Devil's Row throats.
Tattered gamins on the right made a furious assault on the gravel
heap. On their small, convulsed faces there shone the grins of
true assassins. As they charged, they threw stones and cursed in
Maggie: A Girl of the Streets