| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie: mixture containing strychnine would cause the precipitation of
the latter. Probably the idea came to her quite suddenly. Mrs.
Inglethorp had a box of bromide powders, which she occasionally
took at night. What could be easier than quietly to dissolve one
or more of those powders in Mrs. Inglethorp's large sized bottle
of medicine when it came from Coot's? The risk is practically
nil. The tragedy will not take place until nearly a fortnight
later. If anyone has seen either of them touching the medicine,
they will have forgotten it by that time. Miss Howard will have
engineered her quarrel, and departed from the house. The lapse
of time, and her absence, will defeat all suspicion. Yes, it was
The Mysterious Affair at Styles |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Boys' Life of Abraham Lincoln by Helen Nicolay: eagerly to the critics of the President who flattered his hopes,
and found time in spite of his great labors to write letters to
all parts of the country, which, although protesting that he did
not want the honor, showed his entire willingness to accept it.
Mr. Lincoln was well aware of this. Indeed, it was impossible not
to know about it, though he refused to hear the matter discussed
or to read any letters concerning it. He had his own opinion of
the taste displayed by Mr. Chase, but chose to take no notice of
his actions. "I have determined," he said, "to shut my eyes, so
far as possible, to everything of the sort. Mr. Chase makes a
good Secretary, and I shall keep him where he is. If he becomes
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Night and Day by Virginia Woolf: about the past and the great dead, from such distinguished characters
as Mrs. Hilbery for the nourishment of his diary, for whose sake he
frequented tea-tables and ate yearly an enormous quantity of buttered
toast. He, therefore, welcomed Katharine with relief, and she had
merely to shake hands with Rodney and to greet the American lady who
had come to be shown the relics, before the talk started again on the
broad lines of reminiscence and discussion which were familiar to her.
Yet, even with this thick veil between them, she could not help
looking at Rodney, as if she could detect what had happened to him
since they met. It was in vain. His clothes, even the white slip, the
pearl in his tie, seemed to intercept her quick glance, and to
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