| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Wyoming by William MacLeod Raine: have the pictures of some of them."
She glanced at him sharply, but he was gazing so innocently at
the purple Shoshones in the distance that she could not give him
the snub she thought he needed.
"You are right. My name is Helen Messiter," she said, by way of
stimulating a counter fund of information. For, though she was a
young woman not much given to curiosity, she was aware of an
interest in this spare, broad-shouldered youth who was such an
incarnation of bronzed vigor.
"Glad to meet y'u, Miss Messiter," he responded, and offered his
firm brown hand in Western fashion.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Life of the Spider by J. Henri Fabre: the invisible. It is a volute to which the brain conceives no
limits. The trained mind, alone, more discerning than our retina,
sees clearly that which defies the perceptive faculties of the eye.
The Epeira complies to the best of her ability with this law of the
endless volute. The spiral revolutions come closer together as
they approach the pole. At a given distance, they stop abruptly;
but, at this point, the auxiliary spiral, which is not destroyed in
the central region, takes up the thread; and we see it, not without
some surprise, draw nearer to the pole in ever-narrowing and
scarcely perceptible circles. There is not, of course, absolute
mathematical accuracy, but a very close approximation to that
The Life of the Spider |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Works of Samuel Johnson by Samuel Johnson: to be "such an impediment to virtue, as, till it be
removed, suffereth not the mind of man to admit
any other care." All temptations to envy and
competition are shut out from his retreat; he is not
pained with the sight of unattainable dignity, nor
insulted with the bluster of insolence, or the smile
of forced familiarity, If he wanders abroad, the
sanctity of his character amply compensates all other
distinctions; he is seldom seen but with reverence,
nor heard but with submission.
It has been remarked, that death, though often
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