|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Copy-Cat & Other Stories by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman:
"I mean," replied Christopher, "to stop trying to
do what I am hindered in doing, and do just once in
my life what I want to do. Myrtle asked me this
morning if I wasn't going to plow the south field.
Well, I ain't going to plow the south field. I ain't
going to make a garden. I ain't going to try for
hay in the ten-acre lot. I have stopped. I have
worked for nothing except just enough to keep soul
and body together. I have had bad luck. But that
isn't the real reason why I have stopped. Look at
here, Mr. Wheaton, spring is coming. I have never
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from In the South Seas by Robert Louis Stevenson:
the dark hours, a guarded alert made the circuit of the palisade;
each sentry signalled her neighbour with a stone; the rattle of
falling pebbles passed and died away; and the wardens of Tembinok'
crouched in their places silent as before.
CHAPTER IV - THE KING OF APEMAMA: EQUATOR TOWN AND THE PALACE
FIVE persons were detailed to wait upon us. Uncle Parker, who
brought us toddy and green nuts, was an elderly, almost an old man,
with the spirits, the industry, and the morals of a boy of ten.
His face was ancient, droll, and diabolical, the skin stretched
over taut sinews, like a sail on the guide-rope; and he smiled with
every muscle of his head. His nuts must be counted every day, or
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Awakening & Selected Short Stories by Kate Chopin:
that were full of supplication and a certain terror of joy.
They had been driving through the lane with the towering hedge
on one side and the open meadow on the other. The horses had
somewhat quickened their lazy pace. As they turned into the avenue
leading to the house, a whole choir of feathered songsters fluted
a sudden torrent of melodious greeting from their leafy hiding
Octavie felt as if she had passed into a stage of existence
which was like a dream, more poignant and real than life.
There was the old gray house with its sloping eaves.
Amid the blur of green, and dimly, she saw familiar faces
Awakening & Selected Short Stories