| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Summer by Edith Wharton: lodging the young man: there was no room for him. But
it appeared that he could still live at Miss Hatchard's
if Mr. Royall would let him take his meals at the red
house; and after a day's deliberation Mr. Royall
consented.
Charity suspected him of being glad of the chance to
make a little money. He had the reputation of being an
avaricious man; but she was beginning to think he was
probably poorer than people knew. His practice had
become little more than a vague legend, revived only at
lengthening intervals by a summons to Hepburn or
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Herbert West: Reanimator by H. P. Lovecraft: a sound. Then came a period when luck was poor; interments fell
off, and those that did occur were of specimens either too diseased
or too maimed for use. We kept track of all the deaths and their
circumstances with systematic care.
One March night, however,
we unexpectedly obtained a specimen which did not come from the
potter’s field. In Bolton the prevailing spirit of Puritanism
had outlawed the sport of boxing -- with the usual result. Surreptitious
and ill-conducted bouts among the mill-workers were common, and
occasionally professional talent of low grade was imported. This
late winter night there had been such a match; evidently with
Herbert West: Reanimator |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Padre Ignacio by Owen Wister: never yet been heard in California. But my people are so poor and so few!
And some day I shall have passed from them, and it will be too late."
"Perhaps," ventured Felipe, "the Americanos--"
"They care nothing for us, Felipe. They are not of our religion--or of
any religion, from what I can hear. Don't forget my Dixit Dominus."
The Padre retired once more to the sacristy, while the horse that brought
Temptation came over the hill.
The hour of service drew near; and as the Padre waited he once again
stepped out for a look at the ocean; but the blue triangle of water lay
like a picture in its frame of land, bare as the sky. "I think, from the
color, though," said he, "that a little more wind must have begun out
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