| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Tom Sawyer, Detective by Mark Twain: out if Brace and Jubiter was to home and no strangers there,
and then slip out about sundown and tell him. Said he
would wait for us in a little bunch of sycamores right back
of Tom's uncle Silas's tobacker field on the river road,
a lonesome place.
We set and talked a long time about his chances, and Tom
said he was all right if the pals struck up the river
instead of down, but it wasn't likely, because maybe
they knowed where he was from; more likely they would
go right, and dog him all day, him not suspecting,
and kill him when it come dark, and take the boots.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Lady Susan by Jane Austen: therefore, he can take it. I shall not be at home myself till Wednesday or
Thursday, as I shall go through London, where I have business; but before I
leave you," he continued, speaking in a lower tone, and with still greater
energy, "I must warn you of one thing--do not let Frederica Vernon be made
unhappy by that Martin. He wants to marry her; her mother promotes the
match, but she cannot endure the idea of it. Be assured that I speak from
the fullest conviction of the truth of what I say; I Know that Frederica is
made wretched by Sir James's continuing here. She is a sweet girl, and
deserves a better fate. Send him away immediately; he is only a fool: but
what her mother can mean, Heaven only knows! Good bye," he added, shaking
my hand with earnestness; "I do not know when you will see me again; but
Lady Susan |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Hated Son by Honore de Balzac: the duchess had long been signed. The two servitors, deeply moved to
see their mistress forced to bequeath her noble child to none but
themselves, promised by a solemn gesture to be the providence of their
young master, and the mother had faith in that gesture.
The duchess died towards morning, mourned by the servants of the
household, who, for all comment, were heard to say beside her grave,
"She was a comely woman, sent from Paradise."
Etienne's sorrow was the most intense, the most lasting of sorrows,
and wholly silent. He wandered no more among his rocks; he felt no
strength to read or sing. He spent whole days crouched in the crevice
of a rock, caring nought for the inclemency of the weather,
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