| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas: with them; then drawing in the open streets, as if it were the
best of all possible sports; sometimes killed, but sure in that
case to be both wept and avenged; often killing others, but then
certain of not rotting in prison, M. de Treville being there to
claim them. Thus M. de Treville was praised to the highest note
by these men, who adored him, and who, ruffians as they were,
trembled before him like scholars before their master, obedient
to his least word, and ready to sacrifice themselves to wash out
the smallest insult.
M. de Treville employed this powerful weapon for the king, in the
first place, and the friends of the king--and then for himself
The Three Musketeers |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Early Short Fiction of Edith Wharton by Edith Wharton: unforeseen, it was evident that all Boyne's precautions would
sooner or later prove unavailable, and Mary concluded that he had
cut short a tiresome visit by walking with his caller to the
station, or at least accompanying him for part of the way.
This conclusion relieved her from farther preoccupation, and she
went out herself to take up her conference with the gardener.
Thence she walked to the village post-office, a mile or so away;
and when she turned toward home, the early twilight was setting
in.
She had taken a foot-path across the downs, and as Boyne,
meanwhile, had probably returned from the station by the
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Silverado Squatters by Robert Louis Stevenson: into the bowels of the mountain, trickling with water, and
lit by some stray sun-gleams, whence I know not. In that
quiet place the still, far-away tinkle of the water-drops was
loudly audible. Close by, another shaft led edgeways up into
the superincumbent shoulder of the hill. It lay partly open;
and sixty or a hundred feet above our head, we could see the
strata propped apart by solid wooden wedges, and a pine, half
undermined, precariously nodding on the verge. Here also a
rugged, horizontal tunnel ran straight into the unsunned
bowels of the rock. This secure angle in the mountain's
flank was, even on this wild day, as still as my lady's
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