| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Faith of Men by Jack London: reservations, observe, as a guard upon my own integrity. I possess
a certain definite position in a small way, also a wife; and for
the good name of the community that honours my existence with its
approval, and for the sake of her posterity and mine, I cannot take
the chances I once did, nor foster probabilities with the careless
improvidence of youth. So, I repeat, I wash my hands of him, this
Nimrod, this mighty hunter, this homely, blue-eyed, freckle-faced
Thomas Stevens.
Having been honest to myself, and to whatever prospective olive
branches my wife may be pleased to tender me, I can now afford to
be generous. I shall not criticize the tales told me by Thomas
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Man in Lower Ten by Mary Roberts Rinehart: when Hotchkiss came in. When the girl had produced a photograph
of Mrs. Sullivan, and I had recognized the bronze-haired girl of
the train, we were both well satisfied - which goes to prove the
ephemeral nature of most human contentments.
Jennie either had nothing more to say, or feared she had said too
much. She was evidently uneasy before Hotchkiss. I told her that
Mrs. Sullivan was recovering in a Baltimore hospital, but she
already knew it, from some source, and merely nodded. She made a
few preparations for leaving, while Hotchkiss and I compared notes,
and then, with the cat in her arms, she climbed into the trap from
the town. I sat with her, and on the way down she told me a little,
The Man in Lower Ten |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Twelve Stories and a Dream by H. G. Wells: It was fine to go round recognising old favourites and finding
new beauties, especially while so many people fumbled helplessly
with Baedeker. Nor was he a bit of a prig, Miss Winchelsea said,
and indeed she detested prigs. He had a distinct undertone of humour,
and was funny, for example, without being vulgar, at the expense of
the quaint work of Beato Angelico. He had a grave seriousness beneath
it all, and was quick to seize the moral lessons of the pictures.
Fanny went softly among these masterpieces; she admitted "she knew
so little about them," and she confessed that to her they were "all
beautiful." Fanny's "beautiful" inclined to be a little monotonous,
Miss Winchelsea thought. She had been quite glad when the last
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