| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Animal Farm by George Orwell: days of the Rebellion, when Jones's expulsion was still recent, things had
been better or worse than now. They could not remember. There was nothing
with which they could compare their present lives: they had nothing to go
upon except Squealer's lists of figures, which invariably demonstrated
that everything was getting better and better. The animals found the
problem insoluble; in any case, they had little time for speculating on
such things now. Only old Benjamin professed to remember every detail of
his long life and to know that things never had been, nor ever could be
much better or much worse--hunger, hardship, and disappointment being, so
he said, the unalterable law of life.
And yet the animals never gave up hope. More, they never lost, even for an
Animal Farm |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Allan Quatermain by H. Rider Haggard: if they are now safe and well in England, and will ever see these
words. Dear little Flossie! I wonder how she fares there where
there are no black folk to do her imperious bidding, and no sky-piercing
snow-clad Kenia for her to look at when she gets up in the morning.
And so goodbye to Flossie.
After leaving the Mission-house we made our way, comparatively
unmolested, past the base of Mount Kenia, which the Masai call
'Donyo Egere', or the 'speckled mountain', on account of the
black patches of rock that appear upon its mighty spire, where
the sides are too precipitous to allow of the snow lying on them;
then on past the lonely lake Baringo, where one of our two remaining
Allan Quatermain |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from In a German Pension by Katherine Mansfield: "What do you mean by sleeping like this the whole night through--like a
sack of potatoes? You've let the baby wet his bed twice."
She did not answer, but tied her petticoat string, and buttoned on her
plaid frock with cold, shaking fingers.
"There, that's enough. Take the baby into the kitchen with you, and heat
that cold coffee on the spirit lamp for the master, and give him the loaf
of black bread out of the table drawer. Don't guzzle it yourself or I'll
know."
The Frau staggered across the room, flung herself on to her bed, drawing
the pink bolster round her shoulders.
It was almost dark in the kitchen. She laid the baby on the wooden settle,
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