| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Flower Fables by Louisa May Alcott: the happy child sit among her flowers, longing for the gentle Elf
to come again, that she might tell her gratitude for all the magic
gift had done.
At length, one day, as she sat singing in the sunny nook where
all her fairest flowers bloomed, weary with gazing at the far-off sky
for the little form she hoped would come, she bent to look with joyful
love upon her bosom flower; and as she looked, its folded leaves
spread wide apart, and, rising slowly from the deep white cup,
appeared the smiling face of the lovely Elf whose coming she had
waited for so long.
"Dear Annie, look for me no longer; I am here on your own breast,
Flower Fables |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Dracula by Bram Stoker: access to the house.
There was at present nothing to be learned from the Piccadilly side,
and nothing could be done, so I went around to the back to see
if anything could be gathered from this quarter. The mews
were active, the Piccadilly houses being mostly in occupation.
I asked one or two of the grooms and helpers whom I saw
around if they could tell me anything about the empty house.
One of them said that he heard it had lately been taken,
but he couldn't say from whom. He told me, however, that up
to very lately there had been a notice board of "For Sale"
up, and that perhaps Mitchell, Sons, & Candy the house agents
Dracula |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Hated Son by Honore de Balzac: love; obliged to suckle him, the duty never wearied her. She would not
let her women care for the child. She dressed and undressed him,
finding fresh pleasures in every little care that he required.
Happiness glowed upon her face as she obeyed the needs of the little
being. As Etienne had come into the world prematurely, no clothes were
ready for him, and those that were needed she made herself,--with what
perfection, you know, ye mothers, who have worked in silence for a
treasured child. The days had never hours long enough for these
manifold occupations and the minute precautions of the nursing mother;
those days fled by, laden with her secret content.
The counsel of the bonesetter still continued in the countess's mind.
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