| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Shadow out of Time by H. P. Lovecraft: whose origin and relevancy I was only beginning to guess. Would
the shelf be reachable by a human body? Could my human hand master
all the aeon-remembered motions of the lock? Would the lock be
undamaged and workable? And what would I do - what dare I do with
what - as I now commenced to realise - I both hoped and feared
to find? Would it prove the awesome, brain-shattering truth of
something past normal conception, or shew only that I was dreaming?
The next I knew I had ceased my tiptoed racing and was standing
still, staring at a row of maddeningly familiar hieroglyphed shelves.
They were in a state of almost perfect preservation, and only
three of the doors in this vicinity had sprung open.
 Shadow out of Time |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Early Short Fiction of Edith Wharton by Edith Wharton: sure, than had ever happened in Boston in a twelve-month or in
Salem in a long lifetime. For here, by their garb, were people
of every nation on earth, Chinamen, Turks, Spaniards, and many
more, mixed with a parti-coloured throng of gentry, lacqueys,
chapmen, hucksters, and tall personages in parsons' gowns who
stalked through the crowd with an air of mastery, a string of
parasites at their heels. And all these people seemed to be
diverting themselves hugely, chaffering with the hucksters,
watching the antics of trained dogs and monkeys, distributing
doles to maimed beggars or having their pockets picked by
slippery-looking fellows in black--the whole with such an air of
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from In a German Pension by Katherine Mansfield: own, tying the two ends in a knot at the back. After all, she reflected,
if she had to go to bed at half past eight she would keep the shawl on.
Which resolution comforted her absolutely.
"Now, then, where are my clothes?" cried Herr Brechenmacher, hanging his
empty letter-bag behind the door and stamping the snow out of his boots.
"Nothing ready, of course, and everybody at the wedding by this time. I
heard the music as I passed. What are you doing? You're not dressed. You
can't go like that."
"Here they are--all ready for you on the table, and some warm water in the
tin basin. Dip your head in. Rosa, give your father the towel.
Everything ready except the trousers. I haven't had time to shorten them.
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