| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from An Old Maid by Honore de Balzac: Jocrisse, a lad of the neighborhood, rather a ninny, trained slowly
and with difficulty to du Bousquier's requirements. His master had
taught him, as he might an orang-outang, to rub the floors, dust the
furniture, black his boots, brush his coats, and bring a lantern to
guide him home at night if the weather were cloudy, and clogs if it
rained. Like many other human beings, this lad hadn't stuff enough in
him for more than one vice; he was a glutton. Often, when du Bousquier
went to a grand dinner, he would take Rene to wait at table; on such
occasions he made him take off his blue cotton jacket, with its big
pockets hanging round his hips, and always bulging with handkerchiefs,
clasp-knives, fruits, or a handful of nuts, and forced him to put on a
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Tales of the Klondyke by Jack London: brimstone, she could not imagine what had prompted the present
visit. She was not aware of any particular wrong she had done,
and surely this woman who waited at the door was not concerned
with the welfare of her soul. Why had she come? For all the
curiosity she could not help but feel, she steeled herself in the
pride of those who are without pride, and trembled in the inner
room like a maid on the first caress of a lover. If Mrs.
Eppingwell suffered going up the hill, she too suffered, lying
face downward on the bed, dry-eyed, dry-mouthed, dumb.
Mrs. Eppingwell's knowledge of human nature was great. She aimed
at universality. She had found it easy to step from the civilized
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Love Songs by Sara Teasdale: But it all came back again
To-night with the first spring thunder
In a rush of rain.
I remembered a darkened doorway
Where we stood while the storm swept by,
Thunder gripping the earth
And lightning scrawled on the sky.
The passing motor busses swayed,
For the street was a river of rain,
Lashed into little golden waves
In the lamp light's stain.
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