| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Of The Nature of Things by Lucretius: The mighty vaults of sky- so grievously,
As gathers thus the storm-clouds' gruesome night,
Do faces of black horror hang on high-
Of which how small a part an image is
There's none to tell or reckon out in words.
Now come; with what swift motion they are borne,
These images, and what the speed assigned
To them across the breezes swimming on-
So that o'er lengths of space a little hour
Alone is wasted, toward whatever region
Each with its divers impulse tends- I'll tell
Of The Nature of Things |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Philosophy 4 by Owen Wister: out smoothly. Then the cause of all this spoke to them from a gate.
"Come as near spillin' as you boys wanted, I guess," remarked the cause.
They looked, and saw him in huge white shirt-sleeves, shaking with
joviality. "If you kep' at it long enough you might a-most learn to
drive a horse," he continued, eying Bertie. This came as near direct
praise as the true son of our soil--Northern or Southern--often thinks
well of. Bertie was pleased, but made a modest observation, and "Are we
near the tavern?" he asked. "Bird-in-Hand!" the son of the soil echoed;
and he contemplated them from his gate. That's me," he stated, with
complacence. "Bill Diggs of the Bird-in-Hand has been me since April,
'65." His massy hair had been yellow, his broad body must have weighed
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Poems by T. S. Eliot: Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all--
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
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