| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson by Robert Louis Stevenson: nights I lay out under a tree in a sort of stupor, doing nothing
but fetch water for myself and horse, light a fire and make coffee,
and all night awake hearing the goat-bells ringing and the tree-
frogs singing when each new noise was enough to set me mad. Then
the bear-hunter came round, pronounced me 'real sick,' and ordered
me up to the ranche.
It was an odd, miserable piece of my life; and according to all
rule, it should have been my death; but after a while my spirit got
up again in a divine frenzy, and has since kicked and spurred my
vile body forward with great emphasis and success.
My new book, THE AMATEUR EMIGRANT, is about half drafted. I don't
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Exiles by Honore de Balzac: good as a mother to him. And he, the sweet cherub! it is as easy to
cheat him as to rock a new-born babe. He believes his pence will last
for ever, and he has eaten them through twice over in the past six
months."
"Woman," said the sergeant, solemnly pointing to the Place de Greve,
"do you remember seeing, even from this spot, the fire in which they
burnt the Danish woman the other day?"
"What then?" said Jacqueline, in a fright.
"What then?" echoed Tirechair. "Why, the two men who lodge with us
smell of scorching. Neither Chapter nor Countess or Protector can
serve them. Here is Easter come round; the year is ending; we must
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Essays of Travel by Robert Louis Stevenson: effect gets between some painters and their sober eyesight, so that,
even when the rest of their picture is calm, the foliage is coloured
like foliage in a gale. There was nothing, however, of this sort to
be noticed in a country where there were no trees and hardly any
shadows, save the passive shadows of clouds or those of rigid houses
and walls. But the wind was nevertheless an occasion of pleasure;
for nowhere could you taste more fully the pleasure of a sudden lull,
or a place of opportune shelter. The reader knows what I mean; he
must remember how, when he has sat himself down behind a dyke on a
hillside, he delighted to hear the wind hiss vainly through the
crannies at his back; how his body tingled all over with warmth, and
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