|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Moon-Face and Other Stories by Jack London:
see them--ay, not in the blaze of a thousand suns could we see them! And so I
say, with the right pigments, properly compounded, an absolutely black paint
could be produced which would render invisible whatever it was applied to."
"It would be a remarkable discovery," I said non-committally, for the whole
thing seemed too fantastic for aught but speculative purposes.
"Remarkable!" Lloyd slapped me on the shoulder. "I should say so. Why, old
chap, to coat myself with such a paint would be to put the world at my feet.
The secrets of kings and courts would be mine, the machinations of diplomats
and politicians, the play of stock-gamblers, the plans of trusts and
corporations. I could keep my hand on the inner pulse of things and become the
greatest power in the world. And I--" He broke off shortly, then added, "Well,
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald:
eager, and untrue. When Michaelis's testimony at the inquest brought to
light Wilson's suspicions of his wife I thought the whole tale would
shortly be served up in racy pasquinade--but Catherine, who might have
said anything, didn't say a word. She showed a surprising amount of
character about it too--looked at the coroner with determined eyes under
that corrected brow of hers, and swore that her sister had never seen
Gatsby, that her sister was completely happy with her husband, that her
sister had been into no mischief whatever. She convinced herself of it,
and cried into her handkerchief, as if the very suggestion was more
than she could endure. So Wilson was reduced to a man "deranged by
grief." in order that the case might remain in its simplist form. And
The Great Gatsby
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Taming of the Shrew by William Shakespeare:
If not, elsewhere they meet with charity;
But I, who never knew how to entreat,
Nor never needed that I should entreat,
Am starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep;
With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed.
And that which spites me more than all these wants,
He does it under name of perfect love;
As who should say, if I should sleep or eat
'Twere deadly sickness, or else present death.
I prithee go and get me some repast;
I care not what, so it be wholesome food.
The Taming of the Shrew