| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Lair of the White Worm by Bram Stoker: Adam drew as close as he could, and was amazed to see a patch of
light on the ground before him; when he realised what it was, he was
determined, more than ever to follow on his quest. The nigger had a
dark lantern in his hand, and was throwing the light down the steep
incline. The glare showed a series of stone steps, which ended in a
low-lying heavy iron door fixed against the side of the house. All
the strange things he had heard from Sir Nathaniel, and all those,
little and big, which he had himself noticed, crowded into his mind
in a chaotic way. Instinctively he took refuge behind a thick oak
stem, and set himself down, to watch what might occur.
After a short time it became apparent that the African was trying to
Lair of the White Worm |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Tattine by Ruth Ogden [Mrs. Charles W. Ide]: drawing-lessons but had taken to them immensely, and now with one limb of the
tree for a seat and another one for an easel, she was working away at a pretty
chime tower, that stood on a neighbor's land.
Down on the grass beneath her Betsy and Doctor were lying. Betsy was a dear,
homely red-and-white Laverack setter, and Doctor, black-and-white and better
looking, was her son. Doctor's beautiful grandmother Tadjie was lying, alas!
under the grass instead of on it, not very far away. It was a sad day for the
dog world when Tadjie left it, for although she was very old, she was very
beautiful up to the last with a glossy silky coat, a superbly feathered tail,
and with brown eyes so soft and entreating, they fairly made you love her,
whether you were fond of dogs or no.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Dust by Mr. And Mrs. Haldeman-Julius: have her in the same house, to know that she is sleeping so near,
so beautiful, so ready for love; that when I wake up tomorrow she
will still be here."
Disarmed and partly appeased by the frankness of his confession,
Mrs. Wade sat silently taking in each word, studying him with wet
eyes, her lips almost blue, her breath a little short. The fire
in his voice, the reality of his strange, terrible love, the eyes
that gazed so sadly and so unexpectantly into space, the hands
that seemed to have shed their weight of toil and clutched, too
late, for the bright flowers of happiness--all filled her with
compassion. Never had he looked so splendid. He seemed, in
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