| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Unconscious Comedians by Honore de Balzac: gave way to a peal of laughter which he seemed to have been repressing
since he entered the lobby.
"What is it?" asked Leon de Lora.
"My dear friend, to prove the sincerity of the constitutional
government we are forced to tell the most frightful lies with
incredible self-possession. But as for me, I'm freakish; some days I
can lie like a prospectus; other days I can't be serious. This is one
of my hilarious days. Now, at this moment, the prime minister, being
summoned by the Opposition to make known a certain diplomatic secret,
is going through his paces in the tribune. Being an honest man who
never lies on his own account, he whispered to me as he mounted the
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Man in Lower Ten by Mary Roberts Rinehart: He was leaning forward, excitedly, and I could almost see the
gruesome tragedy he was depicting.
"She draws out the wallet. Then, perhaps she remembers the alligator
bag, and on the possibility that the notes are there, instead of in
the pocket-book, she gropes around for it. Suddenly, the man awakes
and clutches at the nearest object, perhaps her neck chain, which
breaks. She drops the pocket-book and tries to escape, but he has
caught her right hand.
"It is all in silence; the man is still stupidly drunk. But he
holds her in a tight grip. Then the tragedy. She must get away;
in a minute the car will be aroused. Such a woman, on such an
The Man in Lower Ten |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Lock and Key Library by Julian Hawthorne, Ed.: surprise. It stood apart from the other guest-rooms, at the end of
the passage from which opened George and Lucy's private apartment;
and as it was consequently disagreeable to have a stranger there,
it was always used when the house was full for a member of the
family. My father and mother had often slept there: there was a
little room next to it, though not communicating with it, which
served for a dressing-room. Though I had never passed the night
there myself, I knew it as well as any room in the house. I went
there at once, and found Lucy superintending the last arrangements
for my comfort.
She was full of apologies for the trouble she was giving me. I
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