|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Tales of the Klondyke by Jack London:
standing, ready for the start, and with a blanket around me,
headed across the flat to the camp. No mistaking, it was a grand
layout. The Chilcats had come in a body--dogs, babies, and
canoes--to say nothing of the Dog-Ears, the Little Salmons, and
the Missions. Full half a thousand of them to celebrate Tilly's
wedding, and never a white man in a score of miles.
"Nobody took note of me, the blanket over my head and hiding my
face, and I waded knee deep through the dogs and youngsters till I
was well up to the front. The show was being pulled off in a big
open place among the trees, with great fires burning and the snow
moccasin-packed as hard as Portland cement. Next me was Tilly,
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Woman of No Importance by Oscar Wilde:
myself and Gerald. There is the Puritan, of course, the Puritan in
white muslin, but she doesn't count. She couldn't tell the story
without explaining that she objected to being kissed, could she?
And all the women would think her a fool and the men think her a
bore. And you need not be afraid that Gerald won't be my heir. I
needn't tell you I have not the slightest intention of marrying.
MRS. ARBUTHNOT. You come too late. My son has no need of you.
You are not necessary.
LORD ILLINGWORTH. What do you mean, Rachel?
MRS. ARBUTHNOT. That you are not necessary to Gerald's career. He
does not require you.
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Study of a Woman by Honore de Balzac:
sealed it, and laid it before him without adding the address. The
second letter, begun at eleven o'clock, was not finished till mid-day.
The four pages were closely filled.
"That woman keeps running in my head," he muttered, as he folded this
second epistle and laid it before him, intending to direct it as soon
as he had ended his involuntary revery.
He crossed the two flaps of his flowered dressing-gown, put his feet
on a stool, slipped his hands into the pockets of his red cashmere
trousers, and lay back in a delightful easy-chair with side wings, the
seat and back of which described an angle of one hundred and twenty
degrees. He stopped drinking tea and remained motionless, his eyes