| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Off on a Comet by Jules Verne: justice, has gained for itself the title of "the poor man's cow."
So far from being alarmed at the presence of strangers, the goat ran
nimbly towards them, and then, by its movements and plaintive cries,
seemed to be enticing them to follow it.
"Come," said Servadac; "let us see where it will lead us;
it is more than probable it is not alone."
The count agreed; and the animal, as if comprehending what was said,
trotted on gently for about a hundred paces, and stopped in front of a
kind of cave or burrow that was half concealed by a grove of lentisks.
Here a little girl, seven or eight years of age, with rich brown
hair and lustrous dark eyes, beautiful as one of Murillo's angels,
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from In the South Seas by Robert Louis Stevenson: pretty. But this is not the artist's field; there is the whole
width of heaven between such capering and ogling, and the strange
rhythmic gestures, and strange, rapturous, frenzied faces with
which the best of the male dancers held us spellbound through a
Gilbert Island ballet.
Almost from the first it was apparent that the people of the city
were defeated. I might have thought them even good, only I had the
other troop before my eyes to correct my standard, and remind me
continually of 'the little more, and how much it is.' Perceiving
themselves worsted, the choir of Butaritari grew confused,
blundered, and broke down; amid this hubbub of unfamiliar intervals
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Golden Threshold by Sarojini Naidu: Leisurely elephants wind through the winding lanes,
Swinging their silver bells hung from their silver chains.
Round the high Char Minar sounds of gay cavalcades
Blend with the music of cymbals and serenades.
Over the city bridge Night comes majestical,
Borne like a queen to a sumptuous festival.
STREET CRIES
When dawn's first cymbals beat upon the sky,
Rousing the world to labour's various cry,
To tend the flock, to bind the mellowing grain,
From ardent toil to forge a little gain,
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