| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Herbert West: Reanimator by H. P. Lovecraft: animation were much more hideous than were the total failures,
and we both held fearsome recollections of such things. Ever since
our first daemoniac session in the deserted farmhouse on Meadow
Hill in Arkham, we had felt a brooding menace; and West, though
a calm, blond, blue-eyed scientific automaton in most respects,
often confessed to a shuddering sensation of stealthy pursuit.
He half felt that he was followed -- a psychological delusion
of shaken nerves, enhanced by the undeniably disturbing fact that
at least one of our reanimated specimens was still alive -- a
frightful carnivorous thing in a padded cell at Sefton. Then there
was another -- our first -- whose exact fate we had never learned.
Herbert West: Reanimator |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Life on the Mississippi by Mark Twain: WE were approaching Napoleon, Arkansas. So I began to think
about my errand there. Time, noonday; and bright and sunny.
This was bad--not best, anyway; for mine was not
(preferably) a noonday kind of errand. The more I thought,
the more that fact pushed itself upon me--now in one form,
now in another. Finally, it took the form of a distinct question:
is it good common sense to do the errand in daytime, when, by a
little sacrifice of comfort and inclination, you can have night
for it, and no inquisitive eyes around. This settled it.
Plain question and plain answer make the shortest road out
of most perplexities.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from God The Invisible King by H. G. Wells: Beyond the little world of our sympathies and comprehension there
are those who seem inaccessible to God by any means within our
experience. They are people answering to the "hard-hearted," to the
"stiff-necked generation" of the Hebrew prophets. They betray and
even confess to standards that seem hopelessly base to us. They
show themselves incapable of any disinterested enthusiasm for beauty
or truth or goodness. They are altogether remote from intelligent
sacrifice. To every test they betray vileness of texture; they are
mean, cold, wicked. There are people who seem to cheat with a
private self-approval, who are ever ready to do harsh and cruel
things, whose use for social feeling is the malignant boycott, and
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