|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Stories From the Old Attic by Robert Harris:
never a gray hair. Mentally they were always bright, alert, and
smiling; they always got their facts right, and never took a wrong
turn or got lost.
At first the appeal of the humakins was irresistible, and most
humans chose them over other humans for spouses. What human female
could compete with an always slim, beautiful, and lively imitation?
And what human male could compete with an always confident, correct,
and handsome construction? In fact, the word "humakin" quickly
became a synonym for "perfect," as in, "That's a really humakin
car," or "This pie tastes just humakin." At the same time the word
"human" became a term of opprobrium, indicating something defective
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Twelve Stories and a Dream by H. G. Wells:
of men who are lost in madness on the earth.
At last Mr. Bessel chanced upon a place where a little crowd of such
disembodied silent creatures was gathered, and thrusting through them
he saw below a brightly-lit room, and four or five quiet gentlemen
and a woman, a stoutish woman dressed in black bombazine and sitting
awkwardly in a chair with her head thrown back. He knew her from
her portraits to be Mrs. Bullock, the medium. And he perceived
that tracts and structures in her brain glowed and stirred as he had
seen the pineal eye in the brain of Mr. Vincey glow. The light was
very fitful; sometimes it was a broad illumination, and sometimes
merely a faint twilight spot, and it shifted slowly about her brain.
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Extracts From Adam's Diary by Mark Twain:
among others, trying to study out why the animals called lions and
tigers live on grass and flowers, when, as she says, the sort of
teeth they wear would indicate that they were intended to eat each
other. This is foolish, because to do that would be to kill each
other, and that would introduce what, as I understand it, is called
"death;" and death, as I have been told, has not yet entered the
Park. Which is a pity, on some accounts.
I believe I see what the week is for: it is to give time to rest