| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The New Machiavelli by H. G. Wells: "I want you to understand that the thing is at an end. It is
definitely at an end. We--we talked--yesterday. We mean to end it
altogether." I clenched my hands. "She's--she's going to marry
Arnold Shoesmith."
I wasn't looking now at Margaret any more, but I heard the rustle of
her movement as she turned on me.
"It's all right," I said, clinging to my explanation. "We're doing
nothing shabby. He knows. He will. It's all as right--as things
can be now. We're not cheating any one, Margaret. We're doing
things straight--now. Of course, you know. . . . We shall--we
shall have to make sacrifices. Give things up pretty completely.
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Master Key by L. Frank Baum: be, by that time, in popular use.
Who knows?
1. Rob's Workshop
When Rob became interested in electricity his clear-headed father
considered the boy's fancy to be instructive as well as amusing; so he
heartily encouraged his son, and Rob never lacked batteries, motors or
supplies of any sort that his experiments might require.
He fitted up the little back room in the attic as his workshop, and
from thence a net-work of wires soon ran throughout the house. Not
only had every outside door its electric bell, but every window was
fitted with a burglar alarm; moreover no one could cross the threshold
The Master Key |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Travels with a Donkey in the Cevenne by Robert Louis Stevenson: handsomely wetted by the showers. But now, if I could have found
some water, I should have camped at once in spite of all. Water,
however, being entirely absent, except in the form of rain, I
determined to return to Fouzilhic, and ask a guide a little farther
on my way - 'a little farther lend thy guiding hand.'
The thing was easy to decide, hard to accomplish. In this sensible
roaring blackness I was sure of nothing but the direction of the
wind. To this I set my face; the road had disappeared, and I went
across country, now in marshy opens, now baffled by walls
unscalable to Modestine, until I came once more in sight of some
red windows. This time they were differently disposed. It was not
|
