|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Return of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs:
moment, then he promptly dropped the matter from his mind,
and went to bed.
In a nearby cabin the Countess de Coude was speaking to her husband.
"Why so grave, my dear Raoul?" she asked. "You have been
as glum as could be all evening. What worries you?"
"Olga, Nikolas is on board. Did you know it?"
"Nikolas!" she exclaimed. "But it is impossible, Raoul.
It cannot be. Nikolas is under arrest in Germany."
"So I thought myself until I saw him today--him and that
other arch scoundrel, Paulvitch. Olga, I cannot endure his
persecution much longer. No, not even for you. Sooner or later
The Return of Tarzan
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The King of the Golden River by John Ruskin:
hand. He raised it, drank, spurned the animal with his foot, and
passed on. And he did not know how it was, but he thought that a
strange shadow had suddenly come across the blue sky.
The path became steeper and more rugged every moment, and the
high hill air, instead of refreshing him, seemed to throw his blood
into a fever. The noise of the hill cataracts sounded like mockery
in his ears; they were all distant, and his thirst increased every
moment. Another hour passed, and he again looked down to the flask
at his side; it was half empty, but there was much more than three
drops in it. He stopped to open it, and again, as he did so,
something moved in the path above him. It was a fair child,
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Recruit by Honore de Balzac:
there was always in her bearing, in her voice, a sort of looking
forward to some unknown future, as in girlhood. The most insensible
man would find himself in love with her, and yet be restrained by a
sort of respectful fear, inspired by her courtly and polished manners.
Her soul, naturally noble, but strengthened by cruel trials, was far
indeed from the common run, and men did justice to it. Such a soul
necessarily required a lofty passion; and the affections of Madame de
Dey were concentrated on a single sentiment,--that of motherhood. The
happiness and pleasure of which her married life was deprived, she
found in the passionate love she bore her son. She loved him not only
with the pure and deep devotion of a mother, but with the coquetry of