| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Bickerstaff-Partridge Papers by Jonathan Swift: mistaken almost four hours in his calculation. In the other
circumstances he was exact enough. But whether he has not been
the cause of this poor man's death, as well as the predictor, may
be very reasonably disputed. However, it must be confess'd the
matter is odd enough, whether we should endeavour to account for
it by chance, or the effect of imagination: For my own part, tho'
I believe no man has less faith in these matters, yet I shall
wait with some impatience, and not without some expectation, the
fulfilling of Mr. Bickerstaff's second prediction, that the
Cardinal de Noailles is to die upon the fourth of April, and if
that should be verified as exactly as this of poor Partridge, I
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A House of Pomegranates by Oscar Wilde: streamers of bright ribands attached to them; others went on foot
waving their scarlet cloaks before the bull, and vaulting lightly
over the barrier when he charged them; and as for the bull himself,
he was just like a live bull, though he was only made of wicker-
work and stretched hide, and sometimes insisted on running round
the arena on his hind legs, which no live bull ever dreams of
doing. He made a splendid fight of it too, and the children got so
excited that they stood up upon the benches, and waved their lace
handkerchiefs and cried out: BRAVO TORO! BRAVO TORO! just as
sensibly as if they had been grown-up people. At last, however,
after a prolonged combat, during which several of the hobby-horses
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The White Moll by Frank L. Packard: sick misery that had suddenly taken possession of her soul. The
Sparrow! She knew the Sparrow; she knew the Sparrow's sick mother.
That part of it was true. The Sparrow did have an old mother who
was sick. A fine old lady - finer than the son - Finch, her name
was. Indirectly, she knew old Hayden-Bond, the millionaire, and
- Almost subconsciously she was aware that Danglar was speaking
again.
"I guess luck's breaking our way again," he grinned. "The old boy
paid a hundred thousand cold for that necklace. You know how long
we've been waiting to get our hooks on it, and we've never had our
eyes off his house for two months. Well, it pays to wait, and it
|