| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling: said nothing, but went with the shouting monkeys to a terrace
above the red sandstone reservoirs that were half-full of rain
water. There was a ruined summer-house of white marble in the
center of the terrace, built for queens dead a hundred years ago.
The domed roof had half fallen in and blocked up the underground
passage from the palace by which the queens used to enter. But
the walls were made of screens of marble tracery--beautiful
milk-white fretwork, set with agates and cornelians and jasper and
lapis lazuli, and as the moon came up behind the hill it shone
through the open work, casting shadows on the ground like black
velvet embroidery. Sore, sleepy, and hungry as he was, Mowgli
The Jungle Book |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Sportsman by Xenophon: [5] See "Tales from the Fjeld," Sir George W. Dasent, "Father Bruin in
the Corner."
XII
With regard to methods of procedure in the hunting-field, enough has
been said.[1] But there are many benefits which the enthusiastic
sportsman may expect to derive from this pursuit.[2] I speak of the
health which will thereby accrue to the physical frame, the quickening
of the eye and ear, the defiance of old age, and last, but not least,
the warlike training which it ensures. To begin with, when some day he
has to tramp along rough ways under arms, the heavy infantry soldier
will not faint or flag--he will stand the toil from being long
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson by Robert Louis Stevenson: who do not wish to be cynics in good earnest. Think better of
Otto, if my plea can influence you; and this I mean for your own
sake - not his, poor fellow, as he will never learn your opinion;
but for yours, because, as men go in this world (and women too),
you will not go far wrong if you light upon so fine a fellow; and
to light upon one and not perceive his merits is a calamity. In
the flesh, of course, I mean; in the book the fault, of course, is
with my stumbling pen. Seraphina made a mistake about her Otto; it
begins to swim before me dimly that you may have some traits of
Seraphina?
With true ingratitude you see me pitch upon your exception; but it
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