|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from House of Mirth by Edith Wharton:
starry sky. The strange solitude about them was no stranger than
the sweetness of being alone in it together. At length Lily
withdrew her hand, and moved away a step, so that her white-robed
slimness was outlined against the dusk of the branches. Selden
followed her, and still without speaking they seated themselves
on a bench beside the fountain.
Suddenly she raised her eyes with the beseeching earnestness of a
child. "You never speak to me--you think hard things of me," she
"I think of you at any rate, God knows!" he said.
"Then why do we never see each other? Why can't we be friends?
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson:
more by Heaven's mercy than my own strength. It was not only
that the flash shone in on every side through breaches in the
wall, so that I seemed to be clambering aloft upon an open
scaffold, but the same passing brightness showed me the steps
were of unequal length, and that one of my feet rested that
moment within two inches of the well.
This was the grand stair! I thought; and with the thought, a gust
of a kind of angry courage came into my heart. My uncle had sent
me here, certainly to run great risks, perhaps to die. I swore I
would settle that "perhaps," if I should break my neck for it;
got me down upon my hands and knees; and as slowly as a snail,
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Far From the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy:
place must be lost."
A horseman, whom they had for some time seen in
the distance, now appeared close beside them.
"There's Mr. Boldwood." said Oak." I wonder what
Troy meant by his question."
Coggan and Oak nodded respectfully to the farmer,
just checked their paces to discover if they were wanted,
and finding they were not stood back to let him pass on.
The only signs of the terrible sorrow Boldwood had
been combating through the night, and was combating
now, were the want of colour in his well-defined face,
Far From the Madding Crowd