| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Book of Remarkable Criminals by H. B. Irving: I could not get away from the warders, and I knew I could not
jump from an express train without being killed. I took a look
at Darnall as I went down and as I went back, and after I was put
in my cell, I thought it all over. I felt that I could not get
away, and then I made up my mind to kill myself. I got two bits
of paper and pricked on them the words, `Bury me at Darnall. God
bless you all!' With a bit of black dirt that I found on the
floor of my cell I wrote the same words on another piece of
paper, and then I hid them in my clothes. My hope was that, when
I jumped from the train I should be cut to pieces under the
wheels. Then I should have been taken to the Duke of York (a
A Book of Remarkable Criminals |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy: "What's that that has fallen?" asked the accountant with a naive
smile.
"A French pancake," answered Zherkov.
"So that's what they hit with?" asked the accountant. "How awful!"
He seemed to swell with satisfaction. He had hardly finished
speaking when they again heard an unexpectedly violent whistling which
suddenly ended with a thud into something soft... f-f-flop! and a
Cossack, riding a little to their right and behind the accountant,
crashed to earth with his horse. Zherkov and the staff officer bent
over their saddles and turned their horses away. The accountant
stopped, facing the Cossack, and examined him with attentive
War and Peace |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Voyage to Arcturus by David Lindsay: bright shadow. It had neither shape, nor colour, yet it in some way
suggested the delicate tints of early morning. It was so nebulous
that the sphere could be clearly distinguished through it; in
extension, however, it was thick. The sweet smell emanating from it
was strong, loathsome, and terrible; it seemed to spring from a sort
of loose, mocking slime inexpressibly vulgar and ignorant.
The spirit stream from Muspel flashed with complexity and variety.
It was not below individuality, but above it. It was not the One, or
the Many, but something else far beyond either. It approached
Crystalman, and entered his body - if that bright mist could be
called a body. It passed right through him, and the passage caused
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