| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table by Oliver Wendell Holmes: close to the rail of the burial-ground. He was on a grave with a
broad blue-slate-stone at its head, and a shrub growing on it. The
stone said this was the grave of a young man who was the son of an
Honorable gentleman, and who died a hundred years ago and more. -
Oh, yes, DIED, - with a small triangular mark in one breast, and
another smaller opposite, in his back, where another young man's
rapier had slid through his body; and so he lay down out there on
the Common, and was found cold the next morning, with the night-
dews and the death-dews mingled on his forehead.
Let us have one look at poor Benjamin's grave, - said I. - His
bones lie where his body was laid so long ago, and where the stone
The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Emma McChesney & Co. by Edna Ferber: can get the whole situation in half an hour. What's the use of
talking when figures will tell you."
He walked swiftly over to the door and stood there waiting. Emma
McChesney rose. The puzzled look was there again.
"No, that wasn't it, after all," she said.
"Eh?" said Buck. "Wasn't what?"
"Nothing," replied Emma McChesney.
"I'm wool-gathering this morning. I'm afraid it's going to
take me a day or two to get back into harness again."
"If you'd rather wait, if you think you'll be more fit to-morrow
or the day after, we'll wait. There's no real hurry. I just
Emma McChesney & Co. |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Hero of Our Time by M.Y. Lermontov: was covered with dust, was fastened by the
two lower buttons only, and exposed to view
linen of dazzling whiteness, which proved that
he had the habits of a gentleman. His gloves,
soiled by travel, seemed as though made ex-
pressly for his small, aristocratic hand, and when
he took one glove off I was astonished at the
thinness of his pale fingers. His gait was care-
less and indolent, but I noticed that he did not
swing his arms -- a sure sign of a certain secretive-
ness of character. These remarks, however, are
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