|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Gobseck by Honore de Balzac:
bed; 'how can you do without a fire?'
" 'I am not cold at all,' he said. 'No fire here! no fire! I am going,
I know not where, lad,' he went on, glancing at me with blank,
lightless eyes, 'but I am going away from this.--I have carpology,'
said he (the use of the technical term showing how clear and accurate
his mental processes were even now). 'I thought the room was full of
live gold, and I got up to catch some of it.--To whom will all mine
go, I wonder? Not to the crown; I have left a will, look for it,
Grotius. La belle Hollandaise had a daughter; I once saw the girl
somewhere or other, in the Rue Vivienne, one evening. They call her
"La Torpille," I believe; she is as pretty as pretty can be; look her
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Man in Lower Ten by Mary Roberts Rinehart:
in mine. But when I raised it to my lips, and kissed the soft, open
palm, she drew it away without displeasure.
"Not that, please," she protested, and fell to whistling softly again,
her chin in her hands. "I can't sing," she said, to break an awkward
pause, "and so, when I'm fidgety, or have something on my mind, I
whistle. I hope you don't dislike it?"
"I love it," I asserted warmly. I did; when she pursed her lips
like that I was mad to kiss them.
"I saw you - at the station," she said' suddenly. "You - you were
in a hurry to go." I did not say anything, and after a pause she
drew a long breath. "Men are queer, aren't they?" she said, and
The Man in Lower Ten
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Door in the Wall, et. al. by H. G. Wells:
doing, other men might have been spurred on by my belief in the
practicability of the idea; and I do not pretend to be such a
genius as to have been sure of coming in first, in the case of a
race for the discovery. And you see it was important that if I
really meant to make a pile, people should not know it was an
artificial process and capable of turning out diamonds by the ton.
So I had to work all alone. At first I had a little laboratory,
but as my resources began to run out I had to conduct my
experiments in a wretched unfurnished room in Kentish Town, where
I slept at last on a straw mattress on the floor among all my
apparatus. The money simply flowed away. I grudged myself