|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Pupil by Henry James:
with glassy eyes for the nearest port in such a storm. They were
not prostrate but were horribly white, and Mrs. Moreen had
evidently been crying. Pemberton quickly learned however that her
grief was not for the loss of her dinner, much as she usually
enjoyed it, but the fruit of a blow that struck even deeper, as she
made all haste to explain. He would see for himself, so far as
that went, how the great change had come, the dreadful bolt had
fallen, and how they would now all have to turn themselves about.
Therefore cruel as it was to them to part with their darling she
must look to him to carry a little further the influence he had so
fortunately acquired with the boy - to induce his young charge to
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Voyage Out by Virginia Woolf:
There was a considerable pause.
"There's an abyss between us," said St. John. His voice sounded
as if it issued from the depths of a cavern in the rocks.
"You're infinitely simpler than I am. Women always are, of course.
That's the difficulty. One never knows how a woman gets there.
Supposing all the time you're thinking, 'Oh, what a morbid
Helen sat and looked at him with her needle in her hand.
From her position she saw his head in front of the dark pyramid
of a magnolia-tree. With one foot raised on the rung of a chair,
and her elbow out in the attitude for sewing, her own figure possessed
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Shakespeare's Sonnets by William Shakespeare:
Die single and thine image dies with thee.
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend
Upon thy self thy beauty's legacy?
Nature's bequest gives nothing, but doth lend,
And being frank she lends to those are free:
Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse
The bounteous largess given thee to give?
Profitless usurer, why dost thou use
So great a sum of sums, yet canst not live?
For having traffic with thy self alone,