| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Animal Farm by George Orwell: out. The mechanical details came mostly from three books which had
belonged to Mr. Jones--'One Thousand Useful Things to Do About the House',
'Every Man His Own Bricklayer', and 'Electricity for Beginners'. Snowball
used as his study a shed which had once been used for incubators and had a
smooth wooden floor, suitable for drawing on. He was closeted there for
hours at a time. With his books held open by a stone, and with a piece of
chalk gripped between the knuckles of his trotter, he would move rapidly
to and fro, drawing in line after line and uttering little whimpers of
excitement. Gradually the plans grew into a complicated mass of cranks and
cog-wheels, covering more than half the floor, which the other animals
found completely unintelligible but very impressive. All of them came to
Animal Farm |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Devil's Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce: the Baptist on a charger shows that pagan myths have somewhat
sophisticated sacred history.
CERBERUS, n. The watch-dog of Hades, whose duty it was to guard the
entrance -- against whom or what does not clearly appear; everybody,
sooner or later, had to go there, and nobody wanted to carry off the
entrance. Cerberus is known to have had three heads, and some of the
poets have credited him with as many as a hundred. Professor
Graybill, whose clerky erudition and profound knowledge of Greek give
his opinion great weight, has averaged all the estimates, and makes
the number twenty-seven -- a judgment that would be entirely
conclusive is Professor Graybill had known (a) something about dogs,
The Devil's Dictionary |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Pool in the Desert by Sara Jeanette Duncan: o'clock train. This last was a retrospection in which Anna
naturally could not join me; she never knew, poor dear, how
fortunate as to its moment was the campaign she deplored, and
nothing to this day can have disturbed her conviction that the bond
she was at such magnificent pains to strengthen, held against the
strain, as long, happily, as the supreme need existed. 'How right
you were!' she often said. 'She did, after all, love me best, dear,
wonderful Judy!' Her distress about poor Robert Harbottle was
genuine enough, but one could not be surprised at a certain
ambiguity; one tear for Robert, so to speak, and two for her boy.
It could hardly be, for him, a marriage after his mother's heart.
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