| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Glaucus/The Wonders of the Shore by Charles Kingsley: why should not a few fishermen combine to work out the subject for
themselves, and study for the interests both of science and their
own sport, "The Wonders of the Bank?" The work, petty as it may
seem, is much too great for one man, so prodigal is Nature of her
forms, in the stream as in the ocean; but what if a correspondence
were opened between a few fishermen - of whom one should live, say,
by the Hampshire or Berkshire chalk streams; another on the slates
and granites of Devon; another on the limestones of Yorkshire or
Derbyshire; another among the yet earlier slates of Snowdonia, or
some mountain part of Wales; and more than one among the hills of
the Border and the lakes of the Highlands? Each would find (I
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Daughter of Eve by Honore de Balzac: money I owe you," she would say. "I am sick of seeing you. Send the
sheriff here; I'd prefer him to your silly face."
Florine gave charming dinners, concerts, and well-attended soirees,
where play ran high. Her female friends were all handsome; no old
woman had ever appeared within her precincts. She was not jealous; in
fact, she would have thought jealousy an admission of inferiority. She
had known Coralie and La Torpille in their lifetimes, and now knew
Tullia, Euphrasie, Aquilina, Madame du Val-Noble, Mariette,--those
women who pass through Paris like gossamer through the atmosphere,
without our knowing where they go nor whence they came; to-day queens,
to-morrow slaves. She also knew the actresses, her rivals, and all the
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Mistress Wilding by Rafael Sabatini: on the left, throwing out an arm across the moor towards Chedzoy, a mile
or so short of Zoyland Chase. Here Diana reined in with a sharp gasp
of pain. Ruth checked, and cried to know what ailed her.
"It is the sun, I think," muttered Diana, her hand to her brow. "I am
sick and giddy." And she slipped a thought heavily to the ground. In
an instant Ruth had dismounted and was beside her. Diana was pale,
which lent colour to her complaint, for Ruth was not to know that the
pallor sprang from her agitation in wondering whether the ruse she
attempted would succeed or not.
A short stone's-throw from where they had halted stood a cottage back
from the road in a little plot of ground, the property of a kindly old
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