| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz by L. Frank Baum: swiftly turned and flew away to a great distance. The others picked
themselves up from the ground one by one and quickly rejoined their
fellows, so for a moment the horse thought he had won the fight with ease.
But the Wizard was not so confident.
"Those wooden things are impossible to hurt," he said, "and all the
damage Jim has done to them is to knock a few splinters from their
noses and ears. That cannot make them look any uglier, I'm sure, and
it is my opinion they will soon renew the attack."
"What made them fly away?" asked Dorothy.
"The noise, of course. Don't you remember how the Champion escaped
them by shouting his battle-cry?"
Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A treatise on Good Works by Dr. Martin Luther: lays the greatest stress upon this, for he writes: "Though I know
of a great many, and must hear it daily, who think lightly of my
poverty and say that I write only small Sexternlein (tracts of
small volume) and German sermons for the untaught laity, I will
not permit that to move me. Would to God that during my life I
had served but one layman for his betterment with all my powers;
it would be sufficient for me, I would thank God and suffer all
my books to perish thereafter.... Most willingly I will leave the
honor of greater things to others, and not at all will I be
ashamed of preaching and writing German to the untaught laity."
Since Luther had dedicated the afore-mentioned Tessaradecas
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Lily of the Valley by Honore de Balzac: rest there. Monsieur de Chessel told the truth; but the accident
seemed so forced that Madame de Mortsauf distrusted us. She gave me a
cold, severe glance, under which my own eyelids fell, as much from a
sense of humiliation as to hide the tears that rose beneath them. She
saw the moisture on my forehead, and perhaps she guessed the tears;
for she offered me the restoratives I needed, with a few kind and
consoling words, which gave me back the power of speech. I blushed
like a young girl, and in a voice as tremulous as that of an old man I
thanked her and declined.
"All I ask," I said, raising my eyes to hers, which mine now met for
the second time in a glance as rapid as lightning,--"is to rest here.
The Lily of the Valley |
