| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Moon-Face and Other Stories by Jack London: me, she made the bank and took out after him. Oh, I tell you, it was great! As
I have said, the pool lay in a sort of amphitheatre. Above and below, the
stream could be crossed on stepping-stones. And around and around, up and down
and across the stones, raced Claverhouse and Bellona. I could never have
believed that such an ungainly man could run so fast. But run he did, Bellona
hot-footed after him, and gaining. And then, just as she caught up, he in full
stride, and she leaping with nose at his knee, there was a sudden flash, a
burst of smoke, a terrific detonation, and where man and dog had been the
instant before there was naught to be seen but a big hole in the ground.
"Death from accident while engaged in illegal fishing." That was the verdict
of the coroner's jury; and that is why I pride myself on the neat and artistic
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Nada the Lily by H. Rider Haggard: dogs, and, though till last night I did not know it, I have lost my
mother by their spears, and with her one whom I loved above all in the
world, my sister Nada, who loved me also. Both are dead and the
Halakazi have killed them. This man, the mouth of Dingaan," and he
pointed to me, Mopo, "this man says that if I can stamp out the
Halakazi and make captive of the Lily maid, I shall win the heart of
Dingaan. Little do I care for Dingaan, I who would go my way alone,
and live while I may live, and die when I must, by the hands of
Dingaan as by those of another--what does it matter? Yet, for this
reason, because of the death of Macropha, my mother, and Nada, the
sister who was dear to me, I will make war upon these Halakazi and
Nada the Lily |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Lesson of the Master by Henry James: naturally have a need for action, for deeds at variance with the
pacific pastoral scene. He was evidently so good-natured, however,
that he accepted the inglorious hour for what it was worth. Paul
Overt shared it with him and with his companions for the next
twenty minutes; the latter looked at him and he looked at them
without knowing much who they were, while the talk went on without
much telling him even what it meant. It seemed indeed to mean
nothing in particular; it wandered, with casual pointless pauses
and short terrestrial flights, amid names of persons and places -
names which, for our friend, had no great power of evocation. It
was all sociable and slow, as was right and natural of a warm
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