|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates by Howard Pyle:
excursions against Spanish commerce at home or in the West
Indies; rather were they commended, and it was considered not
altogether a discreditable thing for men to get rich upon the
spoils taken from Spanish galleons in times of nominal peace.
Many of the most reputable citizens and merchants of London, when
they felt that the queen failed in her duty of pushing the fight
against the great Catholic Power, fitted out fleets upon their
own account and sent them to levy good Protestant war of a
private nature upon the Pope's anointed.
Some of the treasures captured in such ventures were immense,
stupendous, unbelievable. For an example, one can hardly credit
Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Buttered Side Down by Edna Ferber:
Chicago, Mrs. Judge Porterfield had worn the negro porter's coat
over her chilly shoulders in mistake for her husband's. Kate
O'Malley can tell a funny story in a way to make the after-dinner
pleasantries of a Washington diplomat sound like the clumsy jests
told around the village grocery stove.
"I wanted to tell you that I read that last story of yours,"
said Millie, sociably, when I had strolled over to her counter,
"and I liked it, all but the heroine. She had an `adorable throat'
and hair that `waved away from her white brow,' and eyes that `now
were blue and now gray.' Say, why don't you write a story about an
Buttered Side Down
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Touchstone by Edith Wharton:
It was settled, then. Well, he would be reasonable; he wouldn't
stand in her way; he would let her go. For two years he had been
living some other, luckier man's life; the time had come when he
must drop back into his own. He no longer tried to look ahead, to
grope his way through the endless labyrinth of his material
difficulties; a sense of dull resignation closed in on him like a
"Hullo, Glennard!" a voice said, as an electric-car, late that
afternoon, dropped him at an uptown corner.
He looked up and met the interrogative smile of Barton Flamel, who
stood on the curbstone watching the retreating car with the eye of