| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Vailima Letters by Robert Louis Stevenson: washed the black paint off, and behold! it was his brother.
When I last heard he was sitting in his house, with the head
upon his lap, and weeping. Barbarous war is an ugly
business; but I believe the civilised is fully uglier; but
Lord! what fun!
I should say we now have definite news that there are THREE
women's heads; it was difficult to get it out of the natives,
who are all ashamed, and the women all in terror of
reprisals. Nothing has been done to punish or disgrace these
hateful innovators. It was a false report that the head had
been returned.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Weir of Hermiston by Robert Louis Stevenson: supper," and again to Archie, with a very trivial accent: "I was half
expecting you," he added.
"No supper," said Archie. "It is impossible that I should eat."
"Not impossible," said the tall old man, laying his hand upon his
shoulder, "and, if you will believe me, necessary."
"You know what brings me?" said Archie, as soon as the servant had left
the room.
"I have a guess, I have a guess," replied Glenalmond. "We will talk of
it presently - when Carstairs has come and gone, and you have had a
piece of my good Cheddar cheese and a pull at the porter tankard: not
before."
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Nana, Miller's Daughter, Captain Burle, Death of Olivier Becaille by Emile Zola: at all among the various groups you had to make yourself small and
to slide along, using your elbows in so doing. Leaning under a
copper lamp, where a jet of gas was burning, the bulky critic was
sitting in judgment on the piece in presence of an attentive circle.
People in passing mentioned his name to each other in muttered
tones. He had laughed the whole act through--that was the rumor
going the round of the passages--nevertheless, he was now very
severe and spoke of taste and morals. Farther off the thin-lipped
critic was brimming over with a benevolence which had an unpleasant
aftertaste, as of milk turned sour.
Fauchery glanced along, scrutinizing the boxes through the round
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