| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Ebb-Tide by Stevenson & Osbourne: shaken. 'Take some more of this. Here, drink this. I order you
to. Don't start crying when you're out of the wood.'
'I'm not crying,' said Herrick, raising his face and showing his
dry eyes. 'It's worse than crying. It's the horror of that grave
that we've escaped from.'
'Come now, you tackle your soup; that'll fix you,' said Davis
kindly. 'I told you you were all broken up. You couldn't have
stood out another week.'
'That's the dreadful part of it!' cried Herrick. 'Another week
and I'd have murdered someone for a dollar! God! and I know
that? And I'm still living? It's some beastly dream.'
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Lesson of the Master by Henry James: said about his coming after dinner. He'd go - he'd see her at
least; perhaps he should see what it meant. He felt as if some of
the elements of a hard sum had been given him and the others were
wanting: he couldn't do his sum till he had got all his figures.
He dressed and drove quickly, so that by half-past eleven he was at
Manchester Square. There were a good many carriages at the door -
a party was going on; a circumstance which at the last gave him a
slight relief, for now he would rather see her in a crowd. People
passed him on the staircase; they were going away, going "on" with
the hunted herdlike movement of London society at night. But
sundry groups remained in the drawing-room, and it was some
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Beauty and The Beast by Bayard Taylor: evening at least.
"Perkins Brown, Shelldrake's boy-of-all-work, awaited us at the
door. He had been sent on two or three days in advance, to take
charge of the house, and seemed to have had enough of hermit-life,
for he hailed us with a wild whoop, throwing his straw hat half-way
up one of the poplars. Perkins was a boy of fifteen, the child of
poor parents, who were satisfied to get him off their hands,
regardless as to what humanitarian theories might be tested upon
him. As the Arcadian Club recognized no such thing as caste, he
was always admitted to our meetings, and understood just enough of
our conversation to excite a silly ambition in his slow mind. His
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