| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from At the Mountains of Madness by H. P. Lovecraft: a point, though, when our sensations could not be conveyed in
any words the press would understand, and a latter point when
we had to adopt an actual rule of strict censorship.
The sailor
Larsen was first to spy the jagged line of witchlike cones and
pinnacles ahead, and his shouts sent everyone to the windows of
the great cabined plane. Despite our speed, they were very slow
in gaining prominence; hence we knew that they must be infinitely
far off, and visible only because of their abnormal height. Little
by little, however, they rose grimly into the western sky; allowing
us to distinguish various bare, bleak, blackish summits, and to
 At the Mountains of Madness |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The People That Time Forgot by Edgar Rice Burroughs: power even than that of self-preservation, directed my hand.
Ajor was in danger! Simultaneously with the thought my pistol
flew to position, a streak of incandescent powder marked the
path of the bullet from its muzzle; and the spear, its point
shattered, was deflected from its path. With a howl of dismay
the six Band-lu rose from their shelter and raced away toward
the south.
I turned toward Ajor. She was very white and wide-eyed, for
the clutching fingers of death had all but seized her; but a
little smile came to her lips and an expression of great pride
to her eyes. "My Tom!" she said, and took my hand in hers.
 The People That Time Forgot |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Lily of the Valley by Honore de Balzac: tears I must shed if you strike against the angles! Believe that my
affection has no equal; it is involuntary and yet deliberate. Ah, I
would that I might see you happy, powerful, respected,--you who are to
me a living dream."
She made me weep, so tender and so terrible was she. Her feelings came
boldly to the surface, yet they were too pure to give the slightest
hope even to a young man thirsting for pleasure. Ignoring my tortured
flesh, she shed the rays, undeviating, incorruptible, of the divine
love, which satisfies the soul only. She rose to heights whither the
prismatic pinions of a love like mine were powerless to bear me. To
reach her a man must needs have won the white wings of the seraphim.
 The Lily of the Valley |