|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The White Moll by Frank L. Packard:
which I am not - but money talks."
"You are a thief, a robber!" The old gray-bearded figure rocked on
its feet and kept wringing its hands. "Get out of here! Get out!
Do you hear? Get out! You come to steal from a poor old man, and -"
"Must we go all over that again?" interrupted the Adventurer wearily.
"I have not come to steal anything; I have simply come to sell you
these papers, which I am quite sure, once you control yourself and
give the matter a little calm consideration, you are really most
anxious to buy - at any price.
"It's a lie!" the other croaked hoarsely. "Those papers are a lie!
I am innocent. And I haven't got any money. None! I haven't any.
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Alexander's Bridge by Willa Cather:
the place. He remembered the shortest way.
It was a warm, smoky evening, and there
was a grimy moon. He went through Covent
Garden to Oxford Street, and as he turned
into Museum Street he walked more slowly,
smiling at his own nervousness as he
approached the sullen gray mass at the end.
He had not been inside the Museum, actually,
since he and Hilda used to meet there;
sometimes to set out for gay adventures at
Twickenham or Richmond, sometimes to linger
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Gobseck by Honore de Balzac:
tribute, eyeing it like a Nabob's prime minister, as he considers
whether he will sign a pardon. Gobseck would take anything, from the
present of game sent him by some poor devil or the pound's weight of
wax candles from devout folk, to the rich man's plate and the
speculator's gold snuff-box. Nobody knew what became of the presents
sent to the old money-lender. Everything went in, but nothing came
" 'On the word of an honest woman,' said the portress, an old
acquaintance of mine, 'I believe he swallows it all and is none the
fatter for it; he is as thin and dried up as the cuckoo in the clock.'
"At length, last Monday, Gobseck sent his pensioner for me. The man