| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Mysterious Island by Jules Verne: which made a sort of landing-place halfway up the long granite staircase.
Then they began to climb again.
Soon fresher air was felt. The drops of water, dried by evaporation, no
longer sparkled on the walls. The flaring torches began to grow dim. The
one which Neb carried went out, and if they did not wish to find their way
in the dark, they must hasten.
This was done, and a little before four o'clock, at the moment when the
sailor's torch went out in its turn, Cyrus Harding and his companions
passed out of the passage.
Chapter 19
The next day, the 22nd of May, the arrangement of their new dwelling was
The Mysterious Island |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Snow Image by Nathaniel Hawthorne: lives. The mother thought to herself that it must certainly be
the daughter of one of the neighbors, and that, seeing Violet and
Peony in the garden, the child had run across the street to play
with them. So this kind lady went to the door, intending to
invite the little runaway into her comfortable parlor; for, now
that the sunshine was withdrawn, the atmosphere, out of doors,
was already growing very cold.
But, after opening the house-door, she stood an instant on the
threshold, hesitating whether she ought to ask the child to come
in, or whether she should even speak to her. Indeed, she almost
doubted whether it were a real child after all, or only a light
The Snow Image |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Call of the Canyon by Zane Grey: one of Carley's battle-scarred warriors. Out of his travail he had climbed
on stepping-stones of his dead self. Resurqam! That had been his
unquenchable cry. Who had heard it? Only the solitude of his lonely canyon,
only the waiting, dreaming, watching walls, only the silent midnight
shadows, only the white, blinking, passionless stars, only the wild
creatures of his haunts, only the moaning wind in the pines--only these had
been with him in his agony. How near were these things to God?
Carley's heart seemed full to bursting. Not another single moment could her
mounting love abide in a heart that held a double purpose. How bitter the
assurance that she had not come West to help him! It was self, self, all
self that had actuated her. Unworthy indeed was she of the love of this
The Call of the Canyon |
