| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Options by O. Henry: "'Why, yes,' says I, 'if it ain't so far that we can't hear the tumult
and the shouting die away. I'm hungry myself,' says I, 'and I'm
pining for some home grub, but I'll go with you.'
"Willie steered me down some side streets till we came to a little
white cottage in a new lot with a twenty-by-thirty-foot lawn decorated
with brickbats and old barrel-staves.
"'Halt and give the countersign,' says I to Willie. 'Don't you know
this dugout? It's the bird's-nest that Joe Granberry built before he
married Myra Allison. What you going there for?'
"But Willie already had the gate open. He walked up the brick walk to
the steps, and I went with him. Myra was sitting in a rocking-chair
Options |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Grimm's Fairy Tales by Brothers Grimm: dived down and soon brought in the key from the bottom.
The third task was the hardest. It was to choose out the youngest and
the best of the king's three daughters. Now they were all beautiful,
and all exactly alike: but he was told that the eldest had eaten a
piece of sugar, the next some sweet syrup, and the youngest a spoonful
of honey; so he was to guess which it was that had eaten the honey.
Then came the queen of the bees, who had been saved by the little
dwarf from the fire, and she tried the lips of all three; but at last
she sat upon the lips of the one that had eaten the honey: and so the
dwarf knew which was the youngest. Thus the spell was broken, and all
who had been turned into stones awoke, and took their proper forms.
Grimm's Fairy Tales |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Poems by T. S. Eliot: Of withered leaves about your feet
And newspapers from vacant lots;
The showers beat
On broken blinds and chimney-pots,
And at the corner of the street
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.
And then the lighting of the lamps.
II
The morning comes to consciousness
Of faint stale smells of beer
From the sawdust-trampled street
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