| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Lair of the White Worm by Bram Stoker: They all sat near the table spread for tea, Adam still near the
door. Lady Arabella fanned herself, complaining of heat, and told
one of the footmen to throw all the outer doors open.
Tea was in progress when Mimi suddenly started up with a look of
fright on her face; at the same moment, the men became cognisant of
a thick smoke which began to spread through the room--a smoke which
made those who experienced it gasp and choke. The footmen began to
edge uneasily towards the inner door. Denser and denser grew the
smoke, and more acrid its smell. Mimi, towards whom the draught
from the open door wafted the smoke, rose up choking, and ran to the
inner door, which she threw open to its fullest extent, disclosing
Lair of the White Worm |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Taras Bulba and Other Tales by Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol: who appeared to be a commanding officer, for he swore louder than all
the others.
"My lord, it is we! you know us, and the lord count will thank you."
"Admit them, a hundred fiends, and mother of fiends! Admit no one
else. And no one is to draw his sword, nor quarrel."
The conclusion of this order the visitors did not hear. "It is we, it
is I, it is your friends!" Yankel said to every one they met.
"Well, can it be managed now?" he inquired of one of the guards, when
they at length reached the end of the corridor.
"It is possible, but I don't know whether you will be able to gain
admission to the prison itself. Yana is not here now; another man is
Taras Bulba and Other Tales |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Lone Star Ranger by Zane Grey: Then he was not dead. He lay stiff, like a stone, with a weight
ponderous as a mountain upon him and all his bound body racked
in slow, dull-beating agony.
A woman's face hovered over him, white and tragic-eyed, like
one of his old haunting phantoms, yet sweet and eloquent. Then
a man's face bent over him, looked deep into his eyes, and
seemed to whisper from a distance: "Duane--Duane! Ah, he knew
me!"
After that there was another long interval of darkness. When
the light came again, clearer this time, the same earnest-faced
man bent over him. It was MacNelly. And with recognition the
The Lone Star Ranger |
