|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Long Odds by H. Rider Haggard:
as any hawk's, and yet soft as a buck's. The whole room was hung with
trophies of his numerous hunting expeditions, and he had some story
about every one of them, if only he could be got to tell it. Generally
he would not, for he was not very fond of narrating his own adventures,
but to-night the port wine made him more communicative.
"Ah, you brute!" he said, stopping beneath an unusually large skull of a
lion, which was fixed just over the mantelpiece, beneath a long row of
guns, its jaws distended to their utmost width. "Ah, you brute! you
have given me a lot of trouble for the last dozen years, and will, I
suppose to my dying day."
"Tell us the yarn, Quatermain," said Good. "You have often promised to
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Verne:
"We shall see it no more," I said, with a sigh.
"What matters," replied the philosopher, "whether this or another
serves to guide us?"
I thought him rather ungrateful.
But at that moment my attention was drawn to an unexpected sight. At
a distance of five hundred paces, at the turn of a high promontory,
appeared a high, tufted, dense forest. It was composed of trees of
moderate height, formed like umbrellas, with exact geometrical
outlines. The currents of wind seemed to have had no effect upon
their shape, and in the midst of the windy blasts they stood unmoved
Journey to the Center of the Earth
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Ball at Sceaux by Honore de Balzac:
father. He daintily took a pinch of snuff, cleared his throat two or
three times, as if he were about to demand a count out of the House;
then he heard his daughter's light step, and she came in humming an
air from Il Barbiere.
"Good-morning, papa. What do you want with me so early?" Having sung
these words, as though they were the refrain of the melody, she kissed
the Count, not with the familiar tenderness which makes a daughter's
love so sweet a thing, but with the light carelessness of a mistress
confident of pleasing, whatever she may do.
"My dear child," said Monsieur de Fontaine, gravely, "I sent for you
to talk to you very seriously about your future prospects. You are at