|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Sentimental Journey by Laurence Sterne:
Europe in the corner of Mons. Dessein's coach-yard; and having
sallied out from thence but a vampt-up business at the first,
though it had been twice taken to pieces on Mount Sennis, it had
not profited much by its adventures, - but by none so little as the
standing so many months unpitied in the corner of Mons. Dessein's
coach-yard. Much indeed was not to be said for it, - but something
might; - and when a few words will rescue misery out of her
distress, I hate the man who can be a churl of them.
- Now was I the master of this hotel, said I, laying the point of
my fore-finger on Mons. Dessein's breast, I would inevitably make a
point of getting rid of this unfortunate DESOBLIGEANT; - it stands
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Seraphita by Honore de Balzac:
come, assemble! Let us sing at the gates of the Sanctuary; our songs
shall drive away the final clouds. With one accord let us hail the
Dawn of the Eternal Day. Behold the rising of the one True Light! Ah,
why may I not take with me these my friends! Farewell, poor earth,
The last psalm was uttered neither by word, look, nor gesture, nor by
any of those signs which men employ to communicate their thoughts, but
as the soul speaks to itself; for at the moment when Seraphita
revealed herself in her true nature, her thoughts were no longer
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The New Machiavelli by H. G. Wells:
before everything else the relief of weeping.
"I've told you," I said awkwardly, "as soon as I could."
There was another long silence. "So that is how we stand," I said
with an air of having things defined. I walked slowly to the door.
She had risen and stood now staring in front of her.
"Good-night," I said, making no movement towards our habitual kiss.
"Good-night," she answered in a tragic note. . . .
I closed the door softly. I remained for a moment or so on the big
landing, hesitating between my bedroom and my study. As I did so I
heard the soft rustle of her movement and the click of the key in
her bedroom door. Then everything was still. . . .