|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Garden Party by Katherine Mansfield:
Lemonade! A whole tank of it stands on a table covered with a cloth; and
lemons like blunted fishes blob in the yellow water. It looks solid, like
a jelly, in the thick glasses. Why can't they drink it without spilling
it? Everybody spills it, and before the glass is handed back the last
drops are thrown in a ring.
Round the ice-cream cart, with its striped awning and bright brass cover,
the children cluster. Little tongues lick, lick round the cream trumpets,
round the squares. The cover is lifted, the wooden spoon plunges in; one
shuts one's eyes to feel it, silently scrunching.
"Let these little birds tell you your future!" She stands beside the cage,
a shrivelled ageless Italian, clasping and unclasping her dark claws. Her
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Weir of Hermiston by Robert Louis Stevenson:
right, from the favour of such society - seemed to extinguish mirth
wherever he came, and was quick to feel the wound, and desist, and
retire into solitude. If he had but understood the figure he presented,
and the impression he made on these bright eyes and tender hearts; if he
had but guessed that the Recluse of Hermiston, young, graceful, well
spoken, but always cold, stirred the maidens of the county with the
charm of Byronism when Byronism was new, it may be questioned whether
his destiny might not even yet have been modified. It may be
questioned, and I think it should be doubted. It was in his horoscope
to be parsimonious of pain to himself, or of the chance of pain, even to
the avoidance of any opportunity of pleasure; to have a Roman sense of
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Dracula by Bram Stoker:
he said, "Little girl, I hold your hand, and you've kissed me,
and if these things don't make us friends nothing ever will.
Thank you for your sweet honesty to me, and goodbye."
He wrung my hand, and taking up his hat, went straight out of the room
without looking back, without a tear or a quiver or a pause, and I am
crying like a baby.
Oh, why must a man like that be made unhappy when there are lots
of girls about who would worship the very ground he trod on?
I know I would if I were free, only I don't want to be free
My dear, this quite upset me, and I feel I cannot write
of happiness just at once, after telling you of it,and I don't