| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Bronte Sisters: few minutes.'
'Oh, but do stay and take a little! it will be ready in five
minutes.'
But he rejected the offer with a majestic wave of the hand.
'I'll tell you what I'll take, Mrs. Markham,' said he: 'I'll take
a glass of your excellent ale.'
'With pleasure!' cried my mother, proceeding with alacrity to pull
the bell and order the favoured beverage.
'I thought,' continued he, 'I'd just look in upon you as I passed,
and taste your home-brewed ale. I've been to call on Mrs. Graham.'
'Have you, indeed?'
 The Tenant of Wildfell Hall |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Beauty and The Beast by Bayard Taylor: small--breaks them down hopelessly. He expected no chance of self-
redemption, and he found none. His life in America was so utterly
dark and hopeless that the brightest moment in it must have been
that which showed him the approach of death.
My task was done. I had tracked this weak, vain, erring, hunted
soul to its last refuge, and the knowledge bequeathed to me but a
single duty. His sins were balanced by his temptations; his vanity
and weakness had revenged themselves; and there only remained to
tell the simple, faithful sister that her sacrifices were no longer
required. I burned the evidences of guilt, despair and suicide,
and sent the other papers, with a letter relating the time and
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Juana by Honore de Balzac: trees with high and gloomy walls on either side of it. When they
reached this spot he coolly invited the marquis to precede him; but as
if the latter understood him he preferred to keep at his side. Then,
no sooner were they fairly in the avenue, then Diard, with the agility
of a tiger, tripped up the marquis with a kick behind the knees, and
putting a foot on his neck stabbed him again and again to the heart
till the blade of the knife broke in it. Then he searched Montefiore's
pockets, took his wallet, money, everything. But though he had taken
the Italian unawares, and had done the deed with lucid mind and the
quickness of a pickpocket, Montefiore had time to cry "Murder! Help!"
in a shrill and piercing voice which was fit to rouse every sleeper in
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