| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery: poor weeny-teeny things out in front with little whitewashed
cagey things about them. They just looked like orphans
themselves, those trees did. It used to make me want to cry
to look at them. I used to say to them, `Oh, you POOR
little things! If you were out in a great big woods with
other trees all around you and little mosses and Junebells
growing over your roots and a brook not far away and birds
singing in you branches, you could grow, couldn't you? But
you can't where you are. I know just exactly how you feel,
little trees.' I felt sorry to leave them behind this morning.
You do get so attached to things like that, don't you?
 Anne of Green Gables |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Poems by T. S. Eliot: He was aware that this sort of thing had occurred before.
The dogs were handsomely provided for,
But shortly afterwards the parrot died too.
The Dresden clock continued ticking on the mantelpiece,
And the footman sat upon the dining-table
Holding the second housemaid on his knees--
Who had always been so careful while her mistress lived.
Cousin Nancy
Miss Nancy Ellicott Strode across the hills and broke them,
Rode across the hills and broke them--
The barren New England hills--
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Sesame and Lilies by John Ruskin: the English public, at this moment, to understand any thoughtful
writing,--so incapable of thought has it become in its insanity of
avarice. Happily, our disease is, as yet, little worse than this
incapacity of thought; it is not corruption of the inner nature; we
ring true still, when anything strikes home to us; and though the
idea that everything should "pay" has infected our every purpose so
deeply, that even when we would play the good Samaritan, we never
take out our two pence and give them to the host, without saying,
"When I come again, thou shalt give me fourpence," there is a
capacity of noble passion left in our hearts' core. We show it in
our work--in our war,--even in those unjust domestic affections
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