|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Shadow out of Time by H. P. Lovecraft:
to minimize displays of this faculty.
Other ugly reports concerned
my intimacy with leaders of occultist groups, and scholars suspected
of connection with nameless bands of abhorrent elder-world hierophants.
These rumours, though never proved at the time, were doubtless
stimulated by the known tenor of some of my reading - for the
consulltation of rare books at libraries cannot be effected secretly.
There is tangible proof - in the form of marginal notes - that
I went minutely through such things as the Comte d'Erlette's Cultes
des Goules, Ludvig Prinn's De Vermis Mysteriis, the Unaussprechlichen
Kulten of von Junzt, the surviving fragments of the puzzling Book
Shadow out of Time
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Lady Baltimore by Owen Wister:
Once more Hortense abstained from making any answer.
Kitty grew superior. "Well, if that's to your taste, Hortense Rieppe!"
"It was none of it like Charley," murmured Hortense.
"I should think not! Charley's not crude. What do you see in that man?"
"I like the way his hair curls above his ears."
For this Kitty found nothing but an impatient exclamation.
And now the voice of Hortense sank still deeper in dreaminess,--down to
where the truth lay; and from those depths came the truth, flashing
upward through the drowsy words she spoke: "I think I want him for his
What light these words may have brought to Kitty, I had no chance to
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Tales of Unrest by Joseph Conrad:
scrawled on the page, while he was stunned by a noise meaningless and
violent, like the clash of gongs or the beating of drums; a great
aimless uproar that, in a manner, prevented him from hearing himself
think and made his mind an absolute blank. This absurd and distracting
tumult seemed to ooze out of the written words, to issue from between
his very fingers that trembled, holding the paper. And suddenly he
dropped the letter as though it had been something hot, or venomous,
or filthy; and rushing to the window with the unreflecting
precipitation of a man anxious to raise an alarm of fire or murder, he
threw it up and put his head out.
A chill gust of wind, wandering through the damp and sooty obscurity
Tales of Unrest