| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Around the World in 80 Days by Jules Verne: They reached the walls about half-past twelve, without having met anyone;
here there was no guard, nor were there either windows or doors.
The night was dark. The moon, on the wane, scarcely left the horizon,
and was covered with heavy clouds; the height of the trees deepened
the darkness.
It was not enough to reach the walls; an opening in them must
be accomplished, and to attain this purpose the party only had
their pocket-knives. Happily the temple walls were built of brick
and wood, which could be penetrated with little difficulty;
after one brick had been taken out, the rest would yield easily.
They set noiselessly to work, and the Parsee on one side
Around the World in 80 Days |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Jungle Tales of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs: Rabba Kega-- upon so slight a thing may the fate of a man
rest--a honey bird attracted the attention of the searchers
and led them off for the delicious store it previously
had marked down for betrayal, and Rabba Kega's doom was sealed.
When the searchers returned empty handed, Mbonga was wroth;
but when he saw the great store of honey they brought with
them his rage subsided. Already Tubuto, young, agile and
evil-minded, with face hideously painted, was practicing
the black art upon a sick infant in the fond hope of
succeeding to the office and perquisites of Rabba Kega.
Tonight the women of the old witch-doctor would moan
The Jungle Tales of Tarzan |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Prince Otto by Robert Louis Stevenson: coldness awoke within him, and woke in turn his own habitual
diffidence of self. Had Sir John been given time to tell him all,
had he even known that she was speeding to the Felsenburg, he would
have gone to her with ardour. As it was, he began to see himself
once more intruding, profiting, perhaps, by her misfortune, and now
that she was fallen, proffering unloved caresses to the wife who had
spurned him in prosperity. The sore spots upon his vanity began to
burn; once more, his anger assumed the carriage of a hostile
generosity; he would utterly forgive indeed; he would help, save,
and comfort his unloving wife; but all with distant self-denial,
imposing silence on his heart, respecting Seraphina's disaffection
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