| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Trooper Peter Halket of Mashonaland by Olive Schreiner: them. It was only half past ten, and it seemed to him he had been sitting
here ten hours at the least.
After a while he threw two more large logs on the fire, and took the flask
out of his pocket. He examined it carefully by the firelight to see how
much it held: then he took a small draught, and examined it again to see
how much it had fallen; and put it back in his breast pocket.
Then Trooper Peter Halket fell to thinking.
It was not often that he thought. On patrol and sitting round camp fires
with the other men about him there was no time for it; and Peter Halket had
never been given to much thinking. He had been a careless boy at the
village school; and though, when he left, his mother paid the village
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Pupil by Henry James: consider," urged Mrs. Moreen. "It's his PLACE - his only place.
You see YOU think it is now."
"Take me away - take me away," Morgan went on, smiling to Pemberton
with his white face.
"Where shall I take you, and how - oh HOW, my boy?" the young man
stammered, thinking of the rude way in which his friends in London
held that, for his convenience, with no assurance of prompt return,
he had thrown them over; of the just resentment with which they
would already have called in a successor, and of the scant help to
finding fresh employment that resided for him in the grossness of
his having failed to pass his pupil.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Adieu by Honore de Balzac: reverie, admiring this disorder so full of harmony, this destruction
which was not without its grace. Suddenly, the brown tiles shone, the
mosses glittered, fantastic shadows danced upon the meadows and
beneath the trees; fading colors revived; striking contrasts
developed, the foliage of the trees and shrubs defined itself more
clearly in the light. Then--the light went out. The landscape seemed
to have spoken, and now was silent, returning to its gloom, or rather
to the soft sad tones of an autumnal twilight.
"It is the palace of the Sleeping Beauty," said the marquis, beginning
to view the house with the eyes of a land owner. "I wonder to whom it
belongs! He must be a stupid fellow not to live in such an exquisite
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