|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Aspern Papers by Henry James:
"I don't think you can see them," said Miss Tita with an extraordinary
expression of entreaty in her eyes, as if the dearest hope she had in the
world now was that I would not take them from her. But how could she expect
me to make such a sacrifice as that after all that had passed between us?
What had I come back to Venice for but to see them, to take them?
My delight in learning they were still in existence was such that
if the poor woman had gone down on her knees to beseech me never to
mention them again I would have treated the proceeding as a bad joke.
"I have got them but I can't show them," she added.
"Not even to me? Ah, Miss Tita!" I groaned, with a voice of infinite
remonstrance and reproach.
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Mistress Wilding by Rafael Sabatini:
"It does credit to his courage that he should sleep late on such a
day," said Blake, and was pleased with the adroitness wherewith he
broke the news. "He quarrelled last night with Anthony Wilding."
Ruth's hand went to her bosom; fear stared at Blake from out her eyes,
blue as the heavens overhead; a grey shade overcast the usual warm
pallor of her face.
"With Mr. Wilding?" she cried. "That man!" And though she said no more
her eyes implored him to go on, and tell her what more there might be.
He did so, and he spared not Wilding. The task, indeed, was one to
which he applied himself with a certain zest; whatever might be the
outcome of the affair, there was no denying that he was by way of
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Pool in the Desert by Sara Jeanette Duncan:
asleep, that though she had 'a general look' of me, her features
were distinctively Farnham.
'Won't you kiss her?' asked Alice. 'You haven't kissed her yet, and
she is used to so much affection.'
'I don't think I could take such an advantage of her,' I said.
They looked at each other, and Mrs. Farnham said that I was plainly
worn out. I mustn't sit up to prayers.
If I had been given anything like reasonable time I might have made
a fight for it, but four weeks--it took a month each way in those
days--was too absurdly little; I could do nothing. But I would not
stay at mamma's. It was more than I would ask of myself, that daily