| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Trooper Peter Halket of Mashonaland by Olive Schreiner: the snores of the trooper under the bushes might be heard half across the
camp.
The intense midday heat had settled down.
At last there was the sound of someone breaking through the long grass and
bushes which had only been removed for a few feet round the camp, and the
figure of a man emerged bearing in one hand a gun, and in the other a bird
which he had shot. He was evidently an Englishman, and not long from
Europe, by the bloom of the skin, which was perceptible in spite of the
superficial tan. His face was at the moment flushed with heat; but the
clear blue eyes and delicate features lost none of their sensitive
refinement.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The American by Henry James: very tender glances to bestow upon Newman. He stood before them,
and such eye-beams as they found available they leveled at him;
Newman feeling as if the door of a sepulchre had suddenly
been opened, and the damp darkness were being exhaled.
"You see I have come back," he said. "I have come to try again."
"It would be ridiculous," said M. de Bellegarde, "to pretend that we are glad
to see you or that we don't question the taste of your visit."
"Oh, don't talk about taste," said Newman, with a laugh, "or that will
bring us round to yours! If I consulted my taste I certainly shouldn't
come to see you. Besides, I will make as short work as you please.
Promise me to raise the blockade--to set Madame de Cintre at liberty--
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Shakespeare's Sonnets by William Shakespeare: CII
My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming;
I love not less, though less the show appear;
That love is merchandiz'd, whose rich esteeming,
The owner's tongue doth publish every where.
Our love was new, and then but in the spring,
When I was wont to greet it with my lays;
As Philomel in summer's front doth sing,
And stops her pipe in growth of riper days:
Not that the summer is less pleasant now
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night,
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