| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Allan Poe: of his malady. It was the manner in which all this, and much
more, was said--it was the apparent heart that went with his
request--which allowed me no room for hesitation; and I
accordingly obeyed forthwith what I still considered a very
singular summons.
Although, as boys, we had been even intimate associates, yet
I really knew little of my friend. His reserve had been always
excessive and habitual. I was aware, however, that his very
ancient family had been noted, time out of mind, for a peculiar
sensibility of temperament, displaying itself, through long ages,
in many works of exalted art, and manifested, of late, in
The Fall of the House of Usher |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The United States Constitution: shall agree to pass the Bill, it shall be sent,
together with the Objections, to the other House, by which
it shall likewise be reconsidered, and if approved by two thirds
of that House, it shall become a law. But in all such Cases
the Votes of both Houses shall be determined by Yeas and Nays,
and the Names of the Persons voting for and against the Bill shall be
entered on the Journal of each House respectively. If any Bill
shall not be returned by the President within ten Days (Sundays excepted)
after it shall have been presented to him, the Same shall be a Law,
in like Manner as if he had signed it, unless the Congress by their
Adjournment prevent its Return, in which case it shall not be a Law.
The United States Constitution |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Early Short Fiction of Edith Wharton by Edith Wharton: stockings; but the view surrounded and shaped her life as the sea
does a lonely island. When her rare callers came it was
difficult for her to detach herself from the contemplation of the
opposite window-washing, or the scrutiny of certain green points
in a neighboring flower-bed which might, or might not, turn into
hyacinths, while she feigned an interest in her visitor's
anecdotes about some unknown grandchild. Mrs. Manstey's real
friends were the denizens of the yards, the hyacinths, the
magnolia, the green parrot, the maid who fed the cats, the doctor
who studied late behind his mustard-colored curtains; and the
confidant of her tenderer musings was the church-spire floating
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