| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Baby Mine by Margaret Mayo: effort at self restraint, Jimmy rose from the couch and started
toward the door.
"If you women are done with me," he said, "I'll clear out."
"Clear out?" exclaimed Alfred, rising quickly and placing himself
between his old friend and the door. "What a chance," and he
laughed boisterously. "You're not going to get out of my sight
this night," he declared. "I'm just beginning to appreciate all
you've done for me."
"So am I," assented Jimmy, and unconsciously his hand sought the
spot where his dinner should have been, but Alfred was not to be
resisted.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Passion in the Desert by Honore de Balzac: whom the man could talk, and whose ferocity was rendered gentle by
him, though he could not explain to himself the reason for their
strange friendship. Great as was the soldier's desire to stay upon
guard, he slept.
On awakening he could not find Mignonne; he mounted the hill, and in
the distance saw her springing toward him after the habit of these
animals, who cannot run on account of the extreme flexibility of the
vertebral column. Mignonne arrived, her jaws covered with blood; she
received the wonted caress of her companion, showing with much purring
how happy it made her. Her eyes, full of languor, turned still more
gently than the day before toward the Provencal, who talked to her as
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Father Damien by Robert Louis Stevenson: then surrounds us in the horror of a nightmare - what a haggard eye
you would have rolled over your reluctant shoulder towards the
house on Beretania Street! Had you gone on; had you found every
fourth face a blot upon the landscape; had you visited the hospital
and seen the butt-ends of human beings lying there almost
unrecognisable, but still breathing, still thinking, still
remembering; you would have understood that life in the lazaretto
is an ordeal from which the nerves of a man's spirit shrink, even
as his eye quails under the brightness of the sun; you would have
felt it was (even today) a pitiful place to visit and a hell to
dwell in. It is not the fear of possible infection. That seems a
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