|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence:
clean and tidy, but rather stark. Yet the fire was bright, the hearth
white, the petroleum lamp hung bright over the table, with its white
oil-cloth. He tried to read a book about India, but tonight he could
not read. He sat by the fire in his shirt-sleeves, not smoking, but
with a mug of beer in reach. And he thought about Connie.
To tell the truth, he was sorry for what had happened, perhaps most for
her sake. He had a sense of foreboding. No sense of wrong or sin; he
was troubled by no conscience in that respect. He knew that conscience
was chiefly tear of society, or fear of oneself. He was not afraid of
himself. But he was quite consciously afraid of society, which he knew
by instinct to be a malevolent, partly-insane beast.
Lady Chatterley's Lover
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Copy-Cat & Other Stories by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman:
and the guests remarked sometimes, within the little
girl's hearing, what a darling she was.
"She never gives me a second's anxiety," Lily's
mother whispered to a lady beside her. "You can-
not imagine what a perfectly good, dependable child
"Now my Christina is a good child in the grain,"
said the lady, "but she is full of mischief. I never
can tell what Christina will do next."
"I can always tell," said Lily's mother, in a voice
of maternal triumph.
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Scarecrow of Oz by L. Frank Baum:
permitted the entire cavern to be distinctly seen, and
the effect was so marvelous that Trot drew in her
breath with a sort of a gasp, and stood quite still in
But the walls and roof of the cavern were merely a
setting for a more wonderful scene. In the center was a
bubbling caldron of water, for here the river rose again,
splashing and dashing till its spray rose high in the
air, where it took the ruby color of the jewels and
seemed like a seething mass of flame. And while they
gazed into the tumbling, tossing water, the body of the
The Scarecrow of Oz