|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Bab:A Sub-Deb, Mary Roberts Rinehart by Mary Roberts Rinehart:
remembered that, with a dollar for the picture and five dollars for
the violets and three dollars for the hat pin I had given Sis, and
two dollars and a quarter for mother's handkercheif case, I had
exactly a dollar and seventy-five cents in the world.
I WAS TRAPPED.
I went up to my room, and sat and waited. Would father be violent,
and throw H. out and then come upstairs, pale with fury and
disinherit me? Or would the whole Familey conspire together, when
the people had gone, and send me to a convent? I made up my mind,
if it was the convent, to take the veil and be a nun. I would go to
nurse lepers, or something, and then, when it was too late, they
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Case of the Golden Bullet by Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner:
Then, the red tape and bureaucratic etiquette which attaches to
every governmental department, puts the secret service men of the
Imperial police on a par with the lower ranks of the subordinates.
Muller's official rank is scarcely much higher than that of a
policeman, although kings and councillors consult him and the
Police Department realises to the full what a treasure it has in
him. But official red tape, and his early misfortune ... prevent
the giving of any higher official standing to even such a genius.
Born and bred to such conditions, Muller understands them, and
his natural modesty of disposition asks for no outward honours,
asks for nothing but an income sufficient for his simple needs,
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Young Forester by Zane Grey:
been easy climbing compared to this one. It was narrow, steep, and full of
dead pines fallen from above. Running was impossible. I clambered upward
over the loose stones, under the bridges of pines, round the boulders.
Presently I heard a shout. I could not tell where it came from, but I
replied. A second call I identified as coming from high up the ragged
canyon side, and I started up. It was hard work. Certainly no bears or
hunter had climbed out just here. At length, sore, spent, and torn, I fell
out of a tangle of brush upon the edge of the canyon. Above me rose the
swelling mountain slope thickly covered with dwarf pines.
"This way, youngster!" called the old hunter from my left.
A few more dashes in and out of the brush and trees brought me to a fairly
The Young Forester