| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Wheels of Chance by H. G. Wells: corner of the tablecloth on the ends of his fingers, and regarded
it. "Fifteen three," he thought, privately.
"Why do you do that?" said Jessie.
"WHAT?" said Hoopdriver, dropping the tablecloth convulsively.
"Look at the cloth like that. I saw you do it yesterday, too."
Mr. Hoopdriver's face became quite a bright red. He began pulling
his moustache nervously. "I know," he said. "I know. It's a queer
habit, I know. But out there, you know, there's native servants,
you know, and--it's a queer thing to talk about--but one has to
look at things to see, don't y'know, whether they're quite clean
or not. It's got to be a habit."
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Tin Woodman of Oz by L. Frank Baum: trained to treat all strangers with courtesy.
"A Tin Woodman? How queer!" exclaimed the little
wanderer.
"Well, perhaps our Emperor is queer," admitted the
servant; "but he is a kind master and as honest and
true as good tin can make him; so we, who gladly serve
him, are apt to forget that he is not like other
people."
"May I see him?" asked Woot the Wanderer, after a
moment's thought.
"If it please you to wait a moment, I will go and ask
The Tin Woodman of Oz |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas: been the case, I only should have been to blame, inasmuch as
I was aware of all these things when I made the engagement.
No, do not seek any longer to discover the reason. I really
am quite ashamed to have been the cause of your undergoing
such severe self-examination; let us drop the subject, and
adopt the middle course of delay, which implies neither a
rupture nor an engagement. Ma foi, there is no hurry. My
daughter is only seventeen years old, and your son
twenty-one. While we wait, time will be progressing, events
will succeed each other; things which in the evening look
dark and obscure, appear but too clearly in the light of
The Count of Monte Cristo |
