| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Men of Iron by Howard Pyle: to awake, for he heard them softly stirring, and as the light
grew broad and strong, saw them arise, one by one, and begin
dressing in the gray morning. Then he himself arose and put on
his doublet and hose, strapping his belt tightly about his waist;
then he sat down on the side of his cot.
Presently that happened for which he was waiting; two of the
younger squires started to bring the bachelors' morning supply of
water. As they crossed the room Myles called to them in a loud
voice--a little uneven, perhaps: "Stop! We draw no more water for
any one in this house, saving only for ourselves. Set ye down
those buckets, and go back to your places!"
 Men of Iron |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Several Works by Edgar Allan Poe: There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be
touched without emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life
and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can
be made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that
in the costume and bearing of the stranger neither wit nor
propriety existed. The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded
from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which
concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance
of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had
difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have
been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Enoch Arden, &c. by Alfred Tennyson: With wings of brooding shelter o'er her peace,
Might have been other, save for Leolin's--
Who knows? but so they wander'd, hour by hour
Gather'd the blossom that rebloom'd, and drank
The magic cup that fill'd itself anew.
A whisper half reveal'd her to herself.
For out beyond her lodges, where the brook
Vocal, with here and there a silence, ran
By sallowy rims, arose the laborers' homes,
A frequent haunt of Edith, on low knolls
That dimpling died into each other, huts
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