| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Koran: book is given in his right hand- these shall read their book, nor
shall they be wronged a straw. But he who in this life is blind
shall be blind in the next too, and err farther from the way.
They had well-nigh beguiled thee from what we inspired thee with,
that thou shouldst forge against us something else, and then they
would have taken thee for a friend; and had it not been that we
stablished thee, thou wouldst have well-nigh leant towards them a
little then would we have made thee taste of torment both of life
and death, then thou wouldst not have found against us any helper.
And they well-nigh enticed thee away from the land, to turn thee out
therefrom; but then- they should not have tarried after thee except
 The Koran |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Weir of Hermiston by Robert Louis Stevenson: that figure of sunshine for the only inhabitant. His first sight of her
was thus excruciatingly sad, like a glimpse of a world from which all
light, comfort, and society were on the point of vanishing. And the
next moment, when she had turned her face to him and the quick smile had
enlightened it, the whole face of nature smiled upon him in her smile of
welcome. Archie's slow pace was quickened; his legs hasted to her
though his heart was hanging back. The girl, upon her side, drew
herself together slowly and stood up, expectant; she was all languor,
her face was gone white; her arms ached for him, her soul was on tip-
toes. But he deceived her, pausing a few steps away, not less white
than herself, and holding up his hand with a gesture of denial.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Troll Garden and Selected Stories by Willa Cather: basin and combed his rough hair and shaggy blond beard. Then he
stood in uncertainty before the suit of dark clothes that hung on
the wall. For the fiftieth time he took them in his hands and
tried to summon courage to put them on. He took the paper collar
that was pinned to the sleeve of the coat and cautiously slipped it
under his rough beard, looking with timid expectancy into the
cracked, splashed glass that hung over the bench. With a short
laugh he threw it down on the bed, and pulling on his old
black hat, he went out, striking off across the level.
It was a physical necessity for him to get away from his cabin
once in a while. He had been there for ten years, digging and
 The Troll Garden and Selected Stories |