| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The First Men In The Moon by H. G. Wells: recapture I was not instantly slain. We made our way to the exterior and
separated in the crater of our arrival, to increase our chances of
recovering our sphere. But presently I came upon a body of Selenites, led
by two who were curiously different, even in form, from any of these we
had seen hitherto, with larger heads and smaller bodies, and much more
elaborately wrapped about. And after evading them for some time I fell
into a crevasse, cut my head rather badly, and displaced my patella, and,
finding crawling very painful, decided to surrender - if they would still
permit me to do so. This they did, and, perceiving my helpless condition,
carried me with them again into the moon. And of Bedford I have heard or
seen nothing more, nor, so far as I can gather, any Selenite. Either the
The First Men In The Moon |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Death of the Lion by Henry James: flesh sore from the brass nails in Neil Paraday's social harness.
The house is full of people who like him, as they mention, awfully,
and with whom his talent for talking nonsense has prodigious
success. I delight in his nonsense myself; why is it therefore
that I grudge these happy folk their artless satisfaction? Mystery
of the human heart - abyss of the critical spirit! Mrs. Wimbush
thinks she can answer that question, and as my want of gaiety has
at last worn out her patience she has given me a glimpse of her
shrewd guess. I'm made restless by the selfishness of the
insincere friend - I want to monopolise Paraday in order that he
may push me on. To be intimate with him is a feather in my cap; it
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Princess of Parms by Edgar Rice Burroughs: "It were better that you held the key, Tars Tarkas," I replied
He smiled, and said no more, but that night as we were
making camp I saw him unfasten Dejah Thoris' fetters himself.
With all his cruel ferocity and coldness there was an
undercurrent of something in Tars Tarkas which he seemed
ever battling to subdue. Could it be a vestige of some human
instinct come back from an ancient forbear to haunt him
with the horror of his people's ways!
As I was approaching Dejah Thoris' chariot I passed Sarkoja,
and the black, venomous look she accorded me was the sweetest
balm I had felt for many hours. Lord, how she hated me!
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