| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie: to the morning-room.
"See you, one should not ask for outside proof--no, reason should
be enough. But the flesh is weak, it is consolation to find that
one is on the right track. Ah, my friend, I am like a giant
refreshed. I run! I leap!"
And, in very truth, run and leap he did, gambolling wildly down
the stretch of lawn outside the long window.
"What is your remarkable little friend doing?" asked a voice
behind me, and I turned to find Mary Cavendish at my elbow. She
smiled, and so did I. "What is it all about?"
"Really, I can't tell you. He asked Dorcas some question about a
The Mysterious Affair at Styles |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Z. Marcas by Honore de Balzac: Orleans over the elder branch of the Bourbons.
The field of political warfare is evidently changed. Civil war
henceforth cannot last for long, and will not be fought out in the
provinces. In France such struggles will be of brief duration and at
the seat of government; and the battle will be the close of the moral
contest which will have been brought to an issue by superior minds.
This state of things will continue so long as France has her present
singular form of government, which has no analogy with that of any
other country; for there is no more resemblance between the English
and the French constitutions than between the two lands.
Thus Marcas' place was in the political press. Being poor and unable
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Several Works by Edgar Allan Poe: moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the
clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes
of the chime die away--they have endured but an instant--and a
light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And
now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and
fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many tinted windows
through which stream the rays from the tripods. But to the chamber
which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the
maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows
a ruddier light through the blood-coloured panes; and the blackness
of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the
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