|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Life in the Iron-Mills by Rebecca Davis:
She did not move.
"Hugh!" she whispered.
It was to be her last word. What was it?
"Hugh, boy, not THAT!"
He did not answer. She wrung her hands, trying to be silent,
looking in his face in an agony of entreaty. He smiled again,
"It is best, Deb. I cannot bear to be hurted any more.
"Hur knows," she said, humbly.
"Tell my father good-bye; and--and kiss little Janey."
She nodded, saying nothing, looked in his face again, and went
Life in the Iron-Mills
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Aspern Papers by Henry James:
consciousness that as the door of the room closed behind
me I was really face to face with the Juliana of some
of Aspern's most exquisite and most renowned lyrics.
I grew used to her afterward, though never completely;
but as she sat there before me my heart beat as fast as if
the miracle of resurrection had taken place for my benefit.
Her presence seemed somehow to contain his, and I felt
nearer to him at that first moment of seeing her than I ever
had been before or ever have been since. Yes, I remember
my emotions in their order, even including a curious little
tremor that took me when I saw that the niece was not there.
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Glimpses of the Moon by Edith Wharton:
Certainly Susy looked lovely enough to justify the most
irrational pangs. As a girl she had been, for some people's
taste, a trifle fine-drawn and sharp-edged; now, to her old
lightness of line was added a shadowy bloom, a sort of star-
reflecting depth. Her movements were slower, less angular; her
mouth had a needing droop, her lids seemed weighed down by their
lashes; and then suddenly the old spirit would reveal itself
through the new languor, like the tartness at the core of a
sweet fruit. As her husband looked at her across the flowers
and lights he laughed inwardly at the nothingness of all things