|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Tales and Fantasies by Robert Louis Stevenson:
chuckled. 'But those days are done. Van Tromp is no more.
He was a man who had successes; I believe you knew I had
successes - to which we shall refer no farther,' pulling down
his neckcloth with a smile. 'That man exists no more: by an
exercise of will I have destroyed him. There is something
like it in the poets. First, a brilliant and conspicuous
career - the observed, I may say, of all observers, including
the bum-bailie: and then, presto! a quiet, sly, old, rustic
BONHOMME, cultivating roses. In Paris, Mr. Naseby - '
'Call him Richard, father,' said Esther.
'Richard, if he will allow me. Indeed, we are old friends,
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Garden Party by Katherine Mansfield:
and they'd never keep on. And he'd been so patient. He'd suggested
everything--gold rims, the kind that curved round your ears, little pads
inside the bridge. No, nothing would please her. "They'll always be
sliding down my nose!" Miss Brill had wanted to shake her.
The old people sat on the bench, still as statues. Never mind, there was
always the crowd to watch. To and fro, in front of the flower-beds and the
band rotunda, the couples and groups paraded, stopped to talk, to greet, to
buy a handful of flowers from the old beggar who had his tray fixed to the
railings. Little children ran among them, swooping and laughing; little
boys with big white silk bows under their chins, little girls, little
French dolls, dressed up in velvet and lace. And sometimes a tiny
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Emma by Jane Austen:
had not been in the wrong, and he would never own that he had.
Concession must be out of the question; but it was time to appear
to forget that they had ever quarrelled; and she hoped it might rather
assist the restoration of friendship, that when he came into the room
she had one of the children with her--the youngest, a nice little girl
about eight months old, who was now making her first visit to Hartfield,
and very happy to be danced about in her aunt's arms. It did assist;
for though he began with grave looks and short questions, he was soon
led on to talk of them all in the usual way, and to take the child
out of her arms with all the unceremoniousness of perfect amity.
Emma felt they were friends again; and the conviction giving