| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Garden Party by Katherine Mansfield: unpractical idiot the man was! Stanley struck out to sea again, and then
as quickly swam in again, and away he rushed up the beach. He felt
cheated.
Jonathan stayed a little longer in the water. He floated, gently moving
his hands like fins, and letting the sea rock his long, skinny body. It
was curious, but in spite of everything he was fond of Stanley Burnell.
True, he had a fiendish desire to tease him sometimes, to poke fun at him,
but at bottom he was sorry for the fellow. There was something pathetic in
his determination to make a job of everything. You couldn't help feeling
he'd be caught out one day, and then what an almighty cropper he'd come!
At that moment an immense wave lifted Jonathan, rode past him, and broke
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Wrong Box by Stevenson & Osbourne: advertisement, was not so clear. And even so, in what terms to
ask a meeting? on what grounds? and where? Not at John Street,
for it would never do to let a man like Bent Pitman know your
real address; nor yet at Pitman's house, some dreadful place in
Holloway, with a trapdoor in the back kitchen; a house which you
might enter in a light summer overcoat and varnished boots, to
come forth again piecemeal in a market-basket. That was the
drawback of a really efficient accomplice, Morris felt, not
without a shudder. 'I never dreamed I should come to actually
covet such society,' he thought. And then a brilliant idea struck
him. Waterloo Station, a public place, yet at certain hours of
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Travels with a Donkey in the Cevenne by Robert Louis Stevenson: more than time to be moving. The peasantry were abroad; scarce
less terrible to me in my nondescript position than the soldiers of
Captain Poul to an undaunted Camisard. I fed Modestine with what
haste I could; but as I was returning to my sack, I saw a man and a
boy come down the hillside in a direction crossing mine. They
unintelligibly hailed me, and I replied with inarticulate but
cheerful sounds, and hurried forward to get into my gaiters.
The pair, who seemed to be father and son, came slowly up to the
plateau, and stood close beside me for some time in silence. The
bed was open, and I saw with regret my revolver lying patently
disclosed on the blue wool. At last, after they had looked me all
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