| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Chronicles of the Canongate by Walter Scott: messenger.
THERE IS STRIFE WITHIN ME, AND I TOSS TO BE AT LIBERTY;
AND EVER THE CLOSER IT CLINGS, AND THE DELUSION IS GROWING TO
ME AS A TREE.
'Anne, yellow-haired daughter of Donald, surely thou knowest
not how it is with me--
That it is old love, unrepaid, which has worn down from me my
strength;
That when far from thee, beyond many mountains, the wound in
my heart was throbbing,
Stirring, and searching for ever, as when I sat beside thee on
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Lesson of the Master by Henry James: pass. He hadn't taken ten steps before he heard himself called
after with a friendly semi-articulate "Er - I beg your pardon!" He
turned round and the General, smiling at him from the porch, said:
"Won't you come in? I won't leave you the advantage of me!" Paul
declined to come in, and then felt regret, for Miss Fancourt, so
late in the afternoon, might return at any moment. But her father
gave him no second chance; he appeared mainly to wish not to have
struck him as ungracious. A further look at the visitor had
recalled something, enough at least to enable him to say: "You've
come back, you've come back?" Paul was on the point of replying
that he had come back the night before, but he suppressed, the next
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from De Profundis by Oscar Wilde: capable, is at once the type and test of all great art. What the
artist is always looking for is the mode of existence in which soul
and body are one and indivisible: in which the outward is
expressive of the inward: in which form reveals. Of such modes of
existence there are not a few: youth and the arts preoccupied with
youth may serve as a model for us at one moment: at another we may
like to think that, in its subtlety and sensitiveness of
impression, its suggestion of a spirit dwelling in external things
and making its raiment of earth and air, of mist and city alike,
and in its morbid sympathy of its moods, and tones, and colours,
modern landscape art is realising for us pictorially what was
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