|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The First Men In The Moon by H. G. Wells:
amidst squeals from the darkness, and Cavor had snapped off the other
spear, and was leaping and flourishing it beside me, and making
inefficient jabs. Clang, clang, came up through the grating, and then an
axe hurtled through the air and whacked against the rocks beyond, to
remind me of the fleshers at the carcasses up the cavern.
I turned, and they were all coming towards us in open order waving their
axes. They were short, thick, little beggars, with long arms, strikingly
different from the ones we had seen before. If they had not heard of us
before, they must have realised the situation with incredible swiftness. I
stared at them for a moment, spear in hand. "Guard that grating, Cavor," I
cried, howled to intimidate them, and rushed to meet them. Two of them
The First Men In The Moon
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie:
these two there existed very little sympathy. For the first
time, it occurred to me to wonder about the girl's future. Mrs.
Inglethorp had made no provisions of any kind for her, but I
imagined that John and Mary would probably insist on her making
her home with them--at any rate until the end of the war. John,
I knew, was very fond of her, and would be sorry to let her go.
John, who had gone into the house, now reappeared. His
good-natured face wore an unaccustomed frown of anger.
"Confound those detectives! I can't think what they're after!
They've been in every room in the house--turning things inside
out, and upside down. It really is too bad! I suppose they took
The Mysterious Affair at Styles
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Silas Marner by George Eliot:
Marner wanted the heaps of ten to grow into a square, and then into
a larger square; and every added guinea, while it was itself a
satisfaction, bred a new desire. In this strange world, made a
hopeless riddle to him, he might, if he had had a less intense
nature, have sat weaving, weaving--looking towards the end of his
pattern, or towards the end of his web, till he forgot the riddle,
and everything else but his immediate sensations; but the money had
come to mark off his weaving into periods, and the money not only
grew, but it remained with him. He began to think it was conscious
of him, as his loom was, and he would on no account have exchanged
those coins, which had become his familiars, for other coins with