|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte:
round. I said--or something in me said for me, and in spite of me -
"Thank you, Mr. Rochester, for your great kindness. I am strangely
glad to get back again to you: and wherever you are is my home--my
I walked on so fast that even he could hardly have overtaken me had
he tried. Little Adele was half wild with delight when she saw me.
Mrs. Fairfax received me with her usual plain friendliness. Leah
smiled, and even Sophie bid me "bon soir" with glee. This was very
pleasant; there is no happiness like that of being loved by your
fellow-creatures, and feeling that your presence is an addition to
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Several Works by Edgar Allan Poe:
The "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No
pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its
Avatar and its seal--the redness and the horror of blood. There were
sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the
pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and
especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which
shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men.
And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease,
were the incidents of half an hour.
But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious.
When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Dracula by Bram Stoker:
The searchlight followed her, and a shudder ran through all who
saw her, for lashed to the helm was a corpse, with drooping head,
which swung horribly to and fro at each motion of the ship.
No other form could be seen on the deck at all.
A great awe came on all as they realised that the ship, as if by a miracle,
had found the harbour, unsteered save by the hand of a dead man!
However, all took place more quickly than it takes to write these words.
The schooner paused not, but rushing across the harbour, pitched herself
on that accumulation of sand and gravel washed by many tides and many
storms into the southeast corner of the pier jutting under the East Cliff,
known locally as Tate Hill Pier.