| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Man against the Sky by Edwin Arlington Robinson: And given little to long sighing,
With no illusion to assuage
The lonely changelessness of dying, --
Unsought, unthought-of, and unheard,
She sings and watches like a bird,
Safe in a comfortable cage
From which there will be no more flying.
The Burning Book
Or the Contented Metaphysician
To the lore of no manner of men
Would his vision have yielded
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling: youngster," he said. "That means there's a gale behind me. Come
along! When you're south of the Sticky Water [he meant the
Equator] and your tail tingles, that means there's a gale in front
of you and you must head north. Come along! The water feels bad
here."
This was one of very many things that Kotick learned, and he
was always learning. Matkah taught him to follow the cod and the
halibut along the under-sea banks and wrench the rockling out of
his hole among the weeds; how to skirt the wrecks lying a hundred
fathoms below water and dart like a rifle bullet in at one
porthole and out at another as the fishes ran; how to dance on the
The Jungle Book |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Soul of the Far East by Percival Lowell: maples, Tom Thumb trees, a foot high and thirty years old, with all
the gnarls and knots and knuckles of their fellows of the forest,
grow in his parterres, their native vitality not a whit diminished.
And they are not regarded as monstrosities but only as the most
natural of artificialities; for they are a part of a horticultural
whole. To walk into a Japanese garden is like wandering of a sudden
into one of those strange worlds we see reflected in the polished
surface of a concave mirror, where all but the observer himself is
transformed into a fantastic miniature of the reality. In that
quaint fairyland diminutive rivers flow gracefully under tiny trees,
past mole-hill mountains, till they fall at last into lilliputian
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