| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Lay Morals by Robert Louis Stevenson: hell-fire ripens flower and fruit and mildly warms us on
summer eves upon the lawn. Far off on all hands other dead
embers, other flaming suns, wheel and race in the apparent
void; the nearest is out of call, the farthest so far that
the heart sickens in the effort to conceive the distance.
Shipwrecked seamen on the deep, though they bestride but the
truncheon of a boom, are safe and near at home compared with
mankind on its bullet. Even to us who have known no other,
it seems a strange, if not an appalling, place of residence.
But far stranger is the resident, man, a creature compact of
wonders that, after centuries of custom, is still wonderful
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Merry Men by Robert Louis Stevenson: indicate no preparation on the part of the gang - if gang it was.
Thirdly, I observe that nothing has been removed except the
Franchard dishes and the casket; our own silver has been minutely
respected. This is wily; it shows intelligence, a knowledge of the
code, a desire to avoid legal consequences. I argue from this fact
that the gang numbers persons of respectability - outward, of
course, and merely outward, as the robbery proves. But I argue,
second, that we must have been observed at Franchard itself by some
occult observer, and dogged throughout the day with a skill and
patience that I venture to qualify as consummate. No ordinary man,
no occasional criminal, would have shown himself capable of this
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton: of things final and irrevocable. It seemed to Archer to
be crushing him down like his own grave-stone; in all
the wide future he saw nothing that would ever lift that
load from his heart. He did not move from his place, or
raise his head from his hands; his hidden eyeballs went
on staring into utter darkness.
"At least I loved you--" he brought out.
On the other side of the hearth, from the sofa-corner
where he supposed that she still crouched, he heard a
faint stifled crying like a child's. He started up and
came to her side.
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