| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from An Episode Under the Terror by Honore de Balzac: the room lay well-nigh in the dark. But the dim brightness,
concentrated upon the holy things, looked like a ray from Heaven
shining down upon the unadorned shrine. The floor was reeking with
damp. An icy wind swept in through the chinks here and there, in a
roof that rose sharply on either side, after the fashion of attic
roofs. Nothing could be less imposing; yet perhaps, too, nothing could
be more solemn than this mournful ceremony. A silence so deep that
they could have heard the faintest sound of a voice on the Route
d'Allemagne, invested the nightpiece with a kind of sombre majesty;
while the grandeur of the service--all the grander for the strong
contrast with the poor surroundings--produced a feeling of reverent
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The American by Henry James: It was a hack like any other, only a trifle dirtier,
with a greasy line along the top of the drab cushions,
as if it had been used for a great many Irish funerals.
It is possible I took a nap; I had been traveling all night,
and though I was excited with my errand, I felt the want of sleep.
At all events I woke up suddenly, from a sleep or from a kind
of a reverie, with the most extraordinary feeling in the world--
a mortal disgust for the thing I was going to do. It came upon
me like THAT!" and he snapped his fingers--"as abruptly as an old
wound that begins to ache. I couldn't tell the meaning of it;
I only felt that I loathed the whole business and wanted to wash
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from New Arabian Nights by Robert Louis Stevenson: rustier than either of those I had seen that day upon the street.
The lining was red, stamped with the name of the maker, which I
have forgotten, and that of the place of manufacture, VENEDIG.
This (it is not yet forgotten) was the name given by the Austrians
to the beautiful city of Venice, then, and for long after, a part
of their dominions.
The shock was complete. I saw imaginary Italians upon every side;
and for the first, and, I may say, for the last time in my
experience, became overpowered by what is called a panic terror. I
knew nothing, that is, to be afraid of, and yet I admit that I was
heartily afraid; and it was with a sensible reluctance that I
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