| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Case of The Lamp That Went Out by Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner: face and made him look ten years older than on that Tuesday morning
when the detective saw him setting out on his journey with his wife.
When the boat landed at the Lido, Thorne walked off down the road
which led to the ocean side. Muller and Mrs. Bernauer entered the
waiting tramway that took them in the same direction. They
dismounted in front of the bathing establishment, stepped behind a
group of bushes and waited there for Thorne. In about ten minutes
they saw his tall figure passing on the other side of the road. He
was walking down to the beach, holding the still unopened papers in
his hand.
A narrow strip of park runs along parallel to the beach in the
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Altar of the Dead by Henry James: on occasions when he was willing to compare small things with
great, liken them to a group of sea-lights on the edge of the ocean
of life. It was a relief to him, after a while, as he sat there,
to feel they had still a virtue. He was more and more easily
tired, and he always drove now; the action of his heart was weak
and gave him none of the reassurance conferred by the action of his
fancy. None the less he returned yet again, returned several
times, and finally, during six months, haunted the place with a
renewal of frequency and a strain of impatience. In winter the
church was unwarmed and exposure to cold forbidden him, but the
glow of his shrine was an influence in which he could almost bask.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Oscar Wilde Miscellaneous by Oscar Wilde: must be confused with the manuscripts stolen from 16 Tite Street in
1895--namely, the enlarged version of Mr. W. H., the second draft of
A Florentine Tragedy, and The Duchess of Padua (which, existing in a
prompt copy, was of less importance than the others); nor with The
Cardinal of Arragon, the manuscript of which I never saw. I
scarcely think it ever existed, though Wilde used to recite proposed
passages for it.
Some years after Wilde's death I was looking over the papers and
letters rescued from Tite Street when I came across loose sheets of
manuscript and typewriting, which I imagined were fragments of The
Duchess of Padua; on putting them together in a coherent form I
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