|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Shadow out of Time by H. P. Lovecraft:
Behind and high above, a faint luminous blur told of the
distant moonlit world outside. Some vague shred of caution warned
me that I should not let it out of my sight, lest I have no guide
for my return.
I now advanced toward the wall at my left, where
the traces of carving were plainest. The littered floor was nearly
as hard to traverse as the downward heap had been, but I managed
to pick my difficult way.
At one place I heaved aside some blocks
and locked away the detritus to see what the pavement was like,
Shadow out of Time
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Life in the Iron-Mills by Rebecca Davis:
with the air of an amused spectator at a play. "Are you
answered?"--turning to Wolfe his clear, magnetic face.
Bright and deep and cold as Arctic air, the soul of the man lay
tranquil beneath. He looked at the furnace-tender as he had
looked at a rare mosaic in the morning; only the man was the
more amusing study of the two.
"Are you answered? Why, May, look at him! 'De profundis
clamavi.' Or, to quote in English, 'Hungry and thirsty, his
soul faints in him.' And so Money sends back its answer into
the depths through you, Kirby! Very clear the answer, too!--I
think I remember reading the same words somewhere: washing your
Life in the Iron-Mills
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte:
wildly through, even reaching my station, and blowing out the
There was such anguish in the gush of grief that accompanied this
raving, that my compassion made me overlook its folly, and I drew
off, half angry to have listened at all, and vexed at having
related my ridiculous nightmare, since it produced that agony;
though WHY was beyond my comprehension. I descended cautiously to
the lower regions, and landed in the back-kitchen, where a gleam of
fire, raked compactly together, enabled me to rekindle my candle.
Nothing was stirring except a brindled, grey cat, which crept from
the ashes, and saluted me with a querulous mew.