|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from House of Mirth by Edith Wharton:
which, as she instantly perceived, was not lost on him.
He flushed to his haggard eyes, flushed so cruelly that she
repented the thrust. "You might well be; you don't know--you must
let me explain. I was deceived: abominably deceived---"
"I am still more sorry for you, then," she interposed, without
irony; "but you must see that I am not exactly the person with
whom the subject can be discussed."
He met this with a look of genuine wonder. "Why not? Isn't it to
you, of all people, that I owe an explanation---"
"No explanation is necessary: the situation was perfectly clear
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Walden by Henry David Thoreau:
not grow in New England, and the mockingbird is rarely heard here.
The wild goose is more of a cosmopolite than we; he breaks his fast
in Canada, takes a luncheon in the Ohio, and plumes himself for the
night in a southern bayou. Even the bison, to some extent, keeps
pace with the seasons cropping the pastures of the Colorado only
till a greener and sweeter grass awaits him by the Yellowstone. Yet
we think that if rail fences are pulled down, and stone walls piled
up on our farms, bounds are henceforth set to our lives and our
fates decided. If you are chosen town clerk, forsooth, you cannot
go to Tierra del Fuego this summer: but you may go to the land of
infernal fire nevertheless. The universe is wider than our views of
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Straight Deal by Owen Wister:
gazers. Thus this on the sidewalk stood some fifty of us, staring at
names we had never known until a little while ago, Bethincourt,
Malancourt, perhaps, or Montfaucon, or Roisel; French names of small
places, among whose crumbled, featureless dust I have walked since, where
lived peacefully a few hundred or a few thousand that are now a thousand
butchered or broken-hearted. Through me ran once again the wonder that
had often chilled me since the abdication of the Czar which made certain
the crumbling of Russia: after France, was our turn coming? Should our
fields, too, be sown with bones, should our little towns among the
orchards and the corn fall in ashes amongst which broken hearts would
wander in search of some surviving stick of property? I had learned to