| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Early Short Fiction of Edith Wharton by Edith Wharton: inquisitive eyes on Granice's furrowed face.
"Look here, Mr. Granice--you see the weak spot, don't you?"
The other made a despairing motion. "I see so many!"
"Yes: but the one that weakens all the others. Why the deuce do
you want this thing known? Why do you want to put your head into
the noose?"
Granice looked at him hopelessly, trying to take the measure of
his quick light irreverent mind. No one so full of a cheerful
animal life would believe in the craving for death as a
sufficient motive; and Granice racked his brain for one more
convincing. But suddenly he saw the reporter's face soften, and
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald: the things you said? You just wanted to be"
"Oh, let's go in," she interrupted, "if you want to analyze.
Let's not talk about it."
When the hand-knit, sleeveless jerseys were stylish, Amory, in a
burst of inspiration, named them "petting shirts." The name
travelled from coast to coast on the lips of parlor-snakes and P.
D.'s.
DESCRIPTIVE
Amory was now eighteen years old, just under six feet tall and
exceptionally, but not conventionally, handsome. He had rather a
young face, the ingenuousness of which was marred by the
This Side of Paradise |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Several Works by Edgar Allan Poe: as the madman fashions. There were much of the beautiful, much of
the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and
not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro
in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of
dreams. And these--the dreams--writhed in and about taking hue
from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem
as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there strikes the ebony
clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a
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
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