The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Bucolics by Virgil: Germans and Parthians shift their natural bounds,
And these the Arar, those the Tigris drink,
Than from my heart his face and memory fade.
MELIBOEUS
But we far hence, to burning Libya some,
Some to the Scythian steppes, or thy swift flood,
Cretan Oaxes, now must wend our way,
Or Britain, from the whole world sundered far.
Ah! shall I ever in aftertime behold
My native bounds- see many a harvest hence
With ravished eyes the lowly turf-roofed cot
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Prince Otto by Robert Louis Stevenson: intuition! Thus we had formed ourselves, and we were ready.'
'It is true,' she cried. 'I feel it. Yours is the genius; your
generosity confounds your insight; all I could offer you was the
position, was this throne, to be a fulcrum. But I offered it
without reserve; I entered at least warmly into all your thoughts;
you were sure of me - sure of my support - certain of justice. Tell
me, tell me again, that I have helped you.'
'Nay, madam,' he said, 'you made me. In everything you were my
inspiration. And as we prepared our policy, weighing every step,
how often have I had to admire your perspicacity, your man-like
diligence and fortitude! You know that these are not the words of
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Start in Life by Honore de Balzac: least condemning her, he knew very well that Oscar was a posthumous
child. His nephew, therefore, seemed to him to have no claims on the
Cardot family. But Madame Clapart, like all women who concentrate
their whole being into the sentiment of motherhood, did not put
herself in Cardot's place and see the matter from his point of view;
she thought he must certainly be interested in so sweet a child, who
bore the maiden name of his late wife.
"Monsieur," said old Cardot's maid-servant, coming out to him as he
walked about the garden while awaiting his breakfast, after his
hairdresser had duly shaved him and powdered his queue, "the mother of
your nephew, Oscar, is here."
|