| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Odyssey by Homer: more. His substance too shall be woefully devoured, nor
shall recompense ever be made, so long as she shall put off
the Achaeans in the matter of her marriage; while we in
expectation, from day to day, vie one with another for the
prize of her perfection, nor go we after other women whom
it were meet that we should each one wed.'
Then wise Telemachus answered him saying: 'Eurymachus, and
ye others, that are lordly wooers, I entreat you no more
concerning this nor speak thereof, for the gods have
knowledge of it now and all the Achaeans. But come, give me
a swift ship and twenty men, who shall accomplish for me my
The Odyssey |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Lamentable Tragedy of Locrine and Mucedorus by William Shakespeare: therefore, follow me.
[Exit.]
ACT III. SCENE IV. The same.
[Enter Mucedorus solus.]
MUCEDORUS.
It was my will an hour ago and more,
As was my promise, for to make return,
But other business hindered my pretence.
It is a world to see when man appoints,
And purposely one certain thing decrees,
How many things may hinder his intent.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Beast in the Jungle by Henry James: wound it expressed, what injury not to be healed. What had the man
HAD, to make him by the loss of it so bleed and yet live?
Something--and this reached him with a pang--that HE, John Marcher,
hadn't; the proof of which was precisely John Marcher's arid end.
No passion had ever touched him, for this was what passion meant;
he had survived and maundered and pined, but where had been HIS
deep ravage? The extraordinary thing we speak of was the sudden
rush of the result of this question. The sight that had just met
his eyes named to him, as in letters of quick flame, something he
had utterly, insanely missed, and what he had missed made these
things a train of fire, made them mark themselves in an anguish of
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