|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The First Men In The Moon by H. G. Wells:
when one drifted through the air towards that pouring tide of night. My
breathing made a piping noise, and it was as though knives were whirling
in my lungs. My heart seemed to beat against the top of my brain. "Shall I
reach it? O Heaven! Shall I reach it?"
My whole being became anguish.
"Lie down!" screamed my pain and despair; "lie down!"
The near I struggled, the more awfully remote it seemed. I was numb, I
stumbled, I bruised and cut myself and did not bleed.
It was in sight.
I fell on all fours, and my lungs whooped.
I crawled. The frost gathered on my lips, icicles hung from my moustache,
The First Men In The Moon
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Cavalry General by Xenophon:
ablest" you can find "in point of wealth and bodily physique"; and "if
not by persuasion, then by prosecution in a court of law." And for
my part, I think, if legal pressure is to be applied, you should apply
it in those cases where neglect to prosecute might fairly be ascribed
to interested motives; since if you fail to put compulsion on the
greater people first, you leave a backdoor of escape at once to those
of humbler means. But there will be other cases; say, of young men
in whom a real enthusiasm for the service may be kindled by recounting
to them all the brilliant feats of knighthood; while you may disarm
the opposition of their guardians by dwelling on the fact that, if not
you, at any rate some future hipparch will certainly compel them to
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Some Reminiscences by Joseph Conrad:
professionally to it with the thought that at eight o'clock, in
another half-hour or so at the furthest, the top-gallant sails
would have to come off the ship.
Next day, but this time in the first dog-watch, Jacques entered
my cabin. He had a thick, woollen muffler round his throat and
the MS. was in his hand. He tendered it to me with a steady look
but without a word. I took it in silence. He sat down on the
couch and still said nothing. I opened and shut a drawer under
my desk, on which a filled-up log-slate lay wide open in its
wooden frame waiting to be copied neatly into the sort of book I
was accustomed to write with care, the ship's log-book. I turned