|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Amy Foster by Joseph Conrad:
kitchen, watched through the open back door; and
he obeyed the signs that were made to him to the
best of his ability. But Smith was full of mistrust.
'Mind, sir! It may be all his cunning,' he cried
repeatedly in a tone of warning. When Mr.
Swaffer started the mare, the deplorable being sit-
ting humbly by his side, through weakness, nearly
fell out over the back of the high two-wheeled cart.
Swaffer took him straight home. And it is then
that I come upon the scene.
"I was called in by the simple process of the old
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Tao Teh King by Lao-tze:
(the idea of) the other; that difficulty and ease produce the one (the
idea of) the other; that length and shortness fashion out the one the
figure of the other; that (the ideas of) height and lowness arise from
the contrast of the one with the other; that the musical notes and
tones become harmonious through the relation of one with another; and
that being before and behind give the idea of one following another.
3. Therefore the sage manages affairs without doing anything, and
conveys his instructions without the use of speech.
4. All things spring up, and there is not one which declines to show
itself; they grow, and there is no claim made for their ownership;
they go through their processes, and there is no expectation (of a
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Recruit by Honore de Balzac:
and a lost hope. After that the stillness continued. Towards morning
the countess was obliged to return to her room. Brigitte, who watched
her movements, was uneasy when she did not reappear, and entering the
room she found her dead.
"She must have heard that recruit walking about Monsieur Auguste's
room, and singing their damned Marseillaise, as if he were in a
stable," cried Brigitte. "That was enough to kill her!"
The death of the countess had a far more solemn cause; it resulted, no
doubt, from an awful vision. At the exact hour when Madame de Dey died
at Carentan, her son was shot in the Morbihan. That tragic fact may be
added to many recorded observations on sympathies that are known to