|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Atheist's Mass by Honore de Balzac:
deeply-seated respect which is inspired by unostentatious virtue,
and many of them dreaded his censure. But Horace made no pedantic
display of his qualities. He was neither a puritan nor a
preacher; he could swear with a grace as he gave his advice, and
was always ready for a jollification when occasion offered. A
jolly companion, not more prudish than a trooper, as frank and
outspoken--not as a sailor, for nowadays sailors are wily
diplomates--but as an honest man who has nothing in his life to
hide, he walked with his head erect, and a mind content. In
short, to put the facts into a word, Horace was the Pylades of
more than one Orestes--creditors being regarded as the nearest
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery:
all my fault. I feel sure I was born under an unlucky star. Everything
I do gets me or my dearest friends into a scrape. We've gone and lost
your father's flat, Diana, and I have a presentiment that we'll not
be allowed to row on the pond any more."
Anne's presentiment proved more trustworthy than presentiments are
apt to do. Great was the consternation in the Barry and Cuthbert
households when the events of the afternoon became known.
"Will you ever have any sense, Anne?" groaned Marilla.
"Oh, yes, I think I will, Marilla," returned Anne optimistically.
A good cry, indulged in the grateful solitude of the east gable,
had soothed her nerves and restored her to her wonted cheerfulness.
Anne of Green Gables
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Lin McLean by Owen Wister:
after the last car, Mr. McLean waved his wide hat defiantly and went
inside the door.
"And he says he's got maturity," Barker muttered. "I've known him since
seventy-nine, and he's kept about eight years old right along." The
Governor was cross, and sorry, and presently crosser. His jokes about
Lin's marriage came back to him and put him in a rage with the departed
fool. "Yes, about eight. Or six," said his Excellency, justifying himself
by the past. For he had first known Lin, the boy of nineteen, supreme in
length of limb and recklessness, breaking horses and feeling for an early
mustache. Next, when the mustache was nearly accomplished, he had mended
the boy's badly broken thigh at Drybone. His skill (and Lin's utter