|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Elixir of Life by Honore de Balzac:
legs tottered as he walked. At last, one night, a stroke of
apoplexy caught him by the throat in its icy clutch. After that
fatal day he grew morose and stern.
He would reproach his wife and son with their devotion, casting
it in their teeth that the affecting and thoughtful care that
they lavished so tenderly upon him was bestowed because they knew
that his money was invested in a life annuity. Then Elvira and
Felipe would shed bitter tears and redouble their caresses, and
the wicked old man's insinuating voice would take an affectionate
tone--"Ah, you will forgive me, will you not, dear friends, dear
wife? I am rather a nuisance. Alas, Lord in heaven, how canst
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Somebody's Little Girl by Martha Young:
They put a big soft white blanket around the little girl and walked
out of the big house with her, someone carrying her in strong arms.
And the big white cat got down off the big white bed and rubbed
himself against the bedpost, and went round and round the bed-post,
and rubbed himself round and round the bed-post.
And the tiny little girl never saw the big house, or the big soft
white cat any more.
And now when it happened that she remembered something, great grown
people said: ``No, no, Bessie Bell, there is nothing in the world
So she just wondered and remembered, and almost forgot what it was
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde:
usual care, giving a good deal of attention to the choice of his necktie
and scarf-pin and changing his rings more than once. He spent a long
time also over breakfast, tasting the various dishes, talking to his
valet about some new liveries that he was thinking of getting made
for the servants at Selby, and going through his correspondence.
At some of the letters, he smiled. Three of them bored him.
One he read several times over and then tore up with a slight look
of annoyance in his face. "That awful thing, a woman's memory!"
as Lord Henry had once said.
After he had drunk his cup of black coffee, he wiped his
lips slowly with a napkin, motioned to his servant to wait,
The Picture of Dorian Gray