| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Rape of Lucrece by William Shakespeare: That with my nails her beauty I may tear.
Thy heat of lust, fond Paris, did incur
This load of wrath that burning Troy doth bear;
Thy eye kindled the fire that burneth here:
And here in Troy, for trespass of thine eye,
The sire, the son, the dame, and daughter die.
'Why should the private pleasure of some one
Become the public plague of many mo?
Let sin, alone committed, light alone
Upon his head that hath transgressed so.
Let guiltless souls be freed from guilty woe:
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The White Moll by Frank L. Packard: and they've got their orders where to go. Cloran won't come back.
Understand, Bertha'?"
There was only one answer to make, only one answer that she dared
make. She made it mechanically, though her brain reeled. A man
named Cloran was to be murdered; and she was to show herself as
this - this Bertha - and...
"Yes," she said.
"Good!" said Danglar. He pulled out his watch again. "All right,
then! We've been here long enough." He rose briskly. "It's time
to make a move. You hop it back to the garret, and get rid of that
fancy dress. I've got to meet Cloran uptown first. Come on, Matty,
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Just Folks by Edgar A. Guest: And he one day took the whipping that his comrades all escaped.
And he never made a murmur, never whimpered in reply;
He would rather take the censure than to stand and tell a lie.
And I'm thinking of another that had courage that was fine,
And I've often wished in moments that such strength of will were mine.
He stood against his comrades, and he left them then and there
When they wanted him to join them in a deed that wasn't fair.
He stood alone, undaunted, with his little head erect;
He would ratber take the jeering than to lose his self-respect.
And I know a lot of others that have grown to manhood now,
Who have yet to wear the laurel that adorns the victor's brow.
Just Folks |
