|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Roads of Destiny by O. Henry:
don't understand. A married man has got to be different. He feels
different from a tough old cloudburst like you. It's sinful to waste
time pulling up towns just to look at their roots, and playing faro
and looking upon red liquor, and such restless policies as them.'
"'There was a time,' I says, and I expect I sighed when I mentioned
it, 'when a certain domesticated little Mary's lamb I could name was
some instructed himself in the line of pernicious sprightliness. I
never expected, Perry, to see you reduced down from a full-grown
pestilence to such a frivolous fraction of a man. Why,' says I,
'you've got a necktie on; and you speak a senseless kind of indoor
drivel that reminds me of a storekeeper or a lady. You look to me like
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Jungle by Upton Sinclair:
to loosen the wool, and then the pluckers had to pull out this wool with
their bare hands, till the acid had eaten their fingers off. There were
those who made the tins for the canned meat; and their hands, too, were
a maze of cuts, and each cut represented a chance for blood poisoning.
Some worked at the stamping machines, and it was very seldom that one
could work long there at the pace that was set, and not give out and
forget himself and have a part of his hand chopped off. There were the
"hoisters," as they were called, whose task it was to press the lever
which lifted the dead cattle off the floor. They ran along upon a rafter,
peering down through the damp and the steam; and as old Durham's architects
had not built the killing room for the convenience of the hoisters, at every
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Man in Lower Ten by Mary Roberts Rinehart:
sense that scientists ignore - a sense of the nearness of things.
And all the time you have been gone, some one has been watching me."
"Couldn't see you," I maintained; "I can't see you now. And your
sense of contiguity didn't tell you about that flower crock."
In the end, of course, he consented to go with me. He was very
lame, and I helped him around to the open window. He was full of
moral courage, the little man: it was only the physical in him that
quailed. And as we groped along, he insisted on going through the
"If it is a trap," he whispered, "I have two arms to your one, and,
besides, as I said before, life holds much for you. As for me, the
The Man in Lower Ten