|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Island of Doctor Moreau by H. G. Wells:
of the emotions. Cravings, instincts, desires that harm humanity,
a strange hidden reservoir to burst forth suddenly and inundate
the whole being of the creature with anger, hate, or fear.
These creatures of mine seemed strange and uncanny to you so soon
as you began to observe them; but to me, just after I make them,
they seem to be indisputably human beings. It's afterwards, as I
observe them, that the persuasion fades. First one animal trait,
then another, creeps to the surface and stares out at me.
But I will conquer yet! Each time I dip a living creature into the bath
of burning pain, I say, `This time I will burn out all the animal;
this time I will make a rational creature of my own!' After all,
The Island of Doctor Moreau
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Octopus by Frank Norris:
While the engines were yet two hundred yards apart, the duel
began, shot answering shot, the sharp staccato reports
punctuating the thunder of wheels and the clamour of steam.
Then the ground trembled and rocked; a roar as of heavy ordnance
developed with the abruptness of an explosion. The two engines
passed each other, the men firing the while, emptying their
revolvers, shattering wood, shivering glass, the bullets clanging
against the metal work as they struck and struck and struck. The
men leaned from the cabs towards each other, frantic with
excitement, shouting curses, the engines rocking, the steam
roaring; confusion whirling in the scene like the whirl of a
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe:
unknown; and the voices and shadowy movings which come to her from
out the cloudy pillar of inspiration have each one echoes and
answers in her own expecting nature. Its mystic imagery are so
many talismans and gems inscribed with unknown hieroglyphics; she
folds them in her bosom, and expects to read them when she passes
beyond the veil.
At this time in our story, the whole St. Clare establishment is,
for the time being, removed to their villa on Lake Pontchartrain.
The heats of summer had driven all who were able to leave the
sultry and unhealthy city, to seek the shores of the lake, and
its cool sea-breezes.
Uncle Tom's Cabin