| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Dust by Mr. And Mrs. Haldeman-Julius: the tender, the mental over the emotional. Add to this, the fact
that with all his faults, perhaps largely because of them,
perhaps chiefly because she cooked, washed, ironed, mended, and
baked for him, kept his home and planned so continually for his
pleasure, Martin was dear to Rose, and it is not difficult to
understand how unequal the contest in which she was matched when
her wishes clashed with her husband's. It was predestined that
he, invariably, should win out.
Rose told her friends she and her husband had decided that the
second story would make her too much work, and Martin noticed
with surprise how easily her convincing statement was accepted.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Kidnapped Santa Claus by L. Frank Baum: swiftly that their feet scarcely seemed to touch the snow-covered ground.
Suddenly a strange thing happened: a rope shot through the moonlight
and a big noose that was in the end of it settled over the arms and
body of Santa Claus and drew tight. Before he could resist or even
cry out he was jerked from the seat of the sleigh and tumbled head
foremost into a snowbank, while the reindeer rushed onward with the
load of toys and carried it quickly out of sight and sound.
Such a surprising experience confused old Santa for a moment, and when
he had collected his senses he found that the wicked Daemons had
pulled him from the snowdrift and bound him tightly with many coils of
the stout rope. And then they carried the kidnapped Santa Claus away
A Kidnapped Santa Claus |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Aspern Papers by Henry James: at the old woman's wrappings I could imagine that she had not wished
to allow people a reason to say that the great poet had overdone it.
But I did not waste my time in considering Miss Bordereau, in whom
the appearance of respiration was so slight as to suggest that no human
attention could ever help her more. I turned my eyes all over the room,
rummaging with them the closets, the chests of drawers, the tables.
Miss Tita met them quickly and read, I think, what was in them; but she did
not answer it, turning away restlessly, anxiously, so that I felt rebuked,
with reason, for a preoccupation that was almost profane in the presence
of our dying companion. All the same I took another look, endeavoring to
pick out mentally the place to try first, for a person who should wish
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