|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Thus Spake Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche:
than brass, nobler than brass. Entirely hard is only the noblest.
This new table, O my brethren, put I up over you: BECOME HARD!--
O thou, my Will! Thou change of every need, MY needfulness! Preserve me
from all small victories!
Thou fatedness of my soul, which I call fate! Thou In-me! Over-me!
Preserve and spare me for one great fate!
And thy last greatness, my Will, spare it for thy last--that thou mayest be
inexorable IN thy victory! Ah, who hath not succumbed to his victory!
Ah, whose eye hath not bedimmed in this intoxicated twilight! Ah, whose
foot hath not faltered and forgotten in victory--how to stand!--
Thus Spake Zarathustra
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Before Adam by Jack London:
somewhere in the tree.
After a short interval his howling grew muffled. He
must have crawled into a hollow in the trunk. But his
wife did not win this shelter. An arrow brought her to
the ground. She was severely hurt, for she made no
effort to get away. She crouched in a sheltering way
over her baby (which clung tightly to her), and made
pleading signs and sounds to the Fire-Men. They
gathered about her and laughed at her--even as Lop-Ear
and I had laughed at the old Tree-Man. And even as we
had poked him with twigs and sticks, so did the
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Under the Red Robe by Stanley Weyman:
where you are for a moment, and I will meet them.'
I stepped out into the darkness, just as the Lieutenant, after
posting his men round the hollow, slid down with a couple of
sergeants to make the arrest. The place round the open door was
pitch-dark. He had not espied my man, who had lodged himself in
the deepest shadow of the hut, and when he saw me come out across
the light he took me for Cocheforet. In a twinkling he thrust a
pistol into my face, and cried triumphantly,--'You are my
prisoner!' while one of the sergeants raised a lanthorn and
threw its light into my eyes.
'What folly is this?' I said savagely.