| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson: passed. "Mr. Hyde, I think?"
Mr. Hyde shrank back with a hissing intake of the breath. But
his fear was only momentary; and though he did not look the lawyer
in the face, he answered coolly enough: "That is my name. What do
you want?"
"I see you are going in," returned the lawyer. "I am an old
friend of Dr. Jekyll's--Mr. Utterson of Gaunt Street--you must
have heard of my name; and meeting you so conveniently, I thought
you might admit me."
"You will not find Dr. Jekyll; he is from home," replied Mr.
Hyde, blowing in the key. And then suddenly, but still without
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Melmoth Reconciled by Honore de Balzac: flourish on a third floor with an estimable wife by his side and an
uninteresting family. The number of cashiers in Paris must always be a
problem for the physiologist. Has any one as yet been able to state
correctly the terms of the proportion sum wherein the cashier figures
as the unknown X? Where will you find the man who shall live with
wealth, like a cat with a caged mouse? This man, for further
qualification, shall be capable of sitting boxed in behind an iron
grating for seven or eight hours a day during seven-eighths of the
year, perched upon a cane-seated chair in a space as narrow as a
lieutenant's cabin on board a man-of-war. Such a man must be able to
defy anchylosis of the knee and thigh joints; he must have a soul
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Catriona by Robert Louis Stevenson: of our conversation, and neither one of us the less pleased. Whiles
she would tell me old wives' tales, of which she had a wonderful
variety, many of them from my friend red-headed Niel. She told them
very pretty, and they were pretty enough childish tales; but the
pleasure to myself was in the sound of her voice, and the thought that
she was telling and I listening. Whiles, again, we would sit entirely
silent, not communicating even with a look, and tasting pleasure enough
in the sweetness of that neighbourhood. I speak here only for myself.
Of what was in the maid's mind, I am not very sure that ever I asked
myself; and what was in my own, I was afraid to consider. I need make
no secret of it now, either to myself or to the reader; I was fallen
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