| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Dust by Mr. And Mrs. Haldeman-Julius: "I ain't got the strength to help," said Wade.
Martin's eyes involuntarily sought his mother's. He knew the
power in her lean, muscular arms, the strength in her narrow
shoulders.
"We'd better fetch it," she agreed.
The pair made the trip down on horseback and brought back the
shack that was to be home for many years. Eighteen miles off a
man had some extra hand-cut shingles which he was willing to
trade for a horse-collar. While Mrs. Wade took the long drive
Martin, under his father's guidance, chopped down enough trees to
build a little lean-to kitchen and make-shift stable. Sixteen
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy: to fall for a whole day or a whole month, or go on falling and never
reach the bottom. Perhaps it was just the Cossack, Likhachev, who
was sitting under the wagon, but it might be the kindest, bravest,
most wonderful, most splendid man in the world, whom no one knew of.
It might really have been that the hussar came for water and went back
into the hollow, but perhaps he had simply vanished- disappeared
altogether and dissolved into nothingness.
Nothing Petya could have seen now would have surprised him. He was
in a fairy kingdom where everything was possible.
He looked up at the sky. And the sky was a fairy realm like the
earth. It was clearing, and over the tops of the trees clouds were
War and Peace |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Happy Prince and Other Tales by Oscar Wilde: has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I
shall have no roses at all this year."
"One red rose is all I want," cried the Nightingale, "only one red
rose! Is there no way by which I can get it?"
"There is away," answered the Tree; "but it is so terrible that I
dare not tell it to you."
"Tell it to me," said the Nightingale, "I am not afraid."
"If you want a red rose," said the Tree, "you must build it out of
music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart's-blood. You
must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long
you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your
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