| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Cruise of the Jasper B. by Don Marquis: and approaching the cabin, "did you cry out?"
"Mr.--er--Cleggett," said Miss Pringle, pursing her lips, "if you
will kindly hold the ladder for me I think I will descend and
retire at once to the cabin."
"As you wish," said Cleggett politely, complying with her wish,
but at a loss to comprehend her.
"I beg you to believe, Mr. Cleggett," said Miss Pringle, averting
her face and flushing painfully, while she turned the lorgnette
about and about with embarrassed fingers, "I beg you to believe
that in electing to witness this spectacle I had no idea of its
exceedingly informal nature."
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin by Robert Louis Stevenson: a moleskin suit and infernally dirty.' The work was not new to
him, for he had already passed some time in a Genoese shop; and to
Fleeming no work was without interest. Whatever a man can do or
know, he longed to know and do also. 'I never learned anything,'
he wrote, 'not even standing on my head, but I found a use for it.'
In the spare hours of his first telegraph voyage, to give an
instance of his greed of knowledge, he meant 'to learn the whole
art of navigation, every rope in the ship and how to handle her on
any occasion'; and once when he was shown a young lady's holiday
collection of seaweeds, he must cry out, 'It showed me my eyes had
been idle.' Nor was his the case of the mere literary smatterer,
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Hidden Masterpiece by Honore de Balzac: do not know the type it cost Pygmalion to make the only statue that
ever walked--"
He fell into a reverie and remained, with fixed eyes, oblivious of all
about him, playing mechanically with his knife.
"See, he is talking to his own soul," said Porbus in a low voice.
The words acted like a spell on Nicolas Poussin, filling him with the
inexplicable curiosity of a true artist. The strange old man, with his
white eyes fixed in stupor, became to the wondering youth something
more than a man; he seemed a fantastic spirit inhabiting an unknown
sphere, and waking by its touch confused ideas within the soul. We can
no more define the moral phenomena of this species of fascination than
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