| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Little Women by Louisa May Alcott: Laurie, for I can row, and Meg see to the lunch, and the children
be useful in some way."
"I hope the Vaughns are not fine grown-up people. Do you
know anything about them, Jo?" asked Meg.
"Only that there are four of them. Kate is older than you,
Fred and Frank (twins) about my age, and a little girl (Grace), who
is nine or ten. Laurie knew them abroad, and liked the boys. I
fancied, from the way he primmed up his mouth in speaking of her,
that he didn't admire Kate much."
"I'm so glad my French print is clean, it's just the thing
and so becoming!" observed Meg complacently. "Have you anything
 Little Women |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie: conveys no warning to her mind. She knows that she is in
danger--but is ignorant of where the danger lies. She decides to
say nothing to her husband, but sits down and writes to her
solicitor, asking him to come on the morrow, and she also
determines to destroy immediately the will which she has just
made. She keeps the fatal letter."
"It was to discover that letter, then, that her husband forced
the lock of the despatch-case?"
"Yes, and from the enormous risk he ran we can see how fully he
realized its importance. That letter excepted, there was
absolutely nothing to connect him with the crime."
 The Mysterious Affair at Styles |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from La Grenadiere by Honore de Balzac: of the skies of Touraine.
At last the doctor forbade Mme. Willemsens to leave her room. Every
day it was brightened by the flowers that she loved, and her children
were always with her. One day, early in November, she sat at the piano
for the last time. A picture--a Swiss landscape--hung above the
instrument; and at the window she could see her children standing with
their heads close together. Again and again she looked from the
children to the landscape, and then again at the children. Her face
flushed, her fingers flew with passionate feeling over the ivory keys.
This was her last great day, an unmarked day of festival, held in her
own soul by the spirit of her memories. When the doctor came, he
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