| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Rewards and Fairies by Rudyard Kipling: French Navy.
'"I'll take you round to Boulogne," he says. "Mother and the
rest'll be glad to see you, and you can slip over to Newhaven with
Uncle Aurette. Or you can ship with me, like most o' your men,
and take a turn at King George's loose trade. There's plenty
pickings," he says.
'Crazy as I was, I couldn't help laughing.
'"I've had my allowance of pickings and stealings," I says.
"Where are they taking my tobacco?" 'Twas being loaded on to a barge.
'"Up the Seine to be sold in Paris," he says. "Neither you nor I
will ever touch a penny of that money."
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Kwaidan by Lafcadio Hearn: youngest, neither more nor less than waste of precious time.
To the Evolutionist such facts necessarily suggest that the value of our
moral idealism is but temporary; and that something better than virtue,
better than kindness, better than self-denial,-- in the present human
meaning of those terms,-- might, under certain conditions, eventually
replace them. He finds himself obliged to face the question whether a world
without moral notions might not be morally better than a world in which
conduct is regulated by such notions. He must even ask himself whether the
existence of religious commandments, moral laws, and ethical standards
among ourselves does not prove us still in a very primitive stage of social
evolution. And these questions naturally lead up to another: Will humanity
Kwaidan |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Pocket Diary Found in the Snow by Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner: asking her to bring certain necessary papers with her. This brought
the answer from the overseer of her estate, an answer which has
caused me great anxiety. Your coming makes it worse, for I fear -"
The sick man broke off and turned his eyes on Muller; eyes so full
of fear and grief that the detective's heart grew soft. He felt
Fellner's icy hand on his as the sick man murmured: "Tell me the
truth! Is Asta dead?"
The detective shrugged his shoulders. "We do not know yet. She
was alive and able to send a message at half past eight this evening."
"A message? To whom?"
"To the nearest police station." Muller told the story as it had
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