| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Nada the Lily by H. Rider Haggard: and the figure sighed and turned so that the light of the moon fell
full upon its face.
My father, it was the face of Nada, my daughter, whom I had not seen
for so many years, yet across the years I knew it at once; yes, though
the bud had become a flower I knew it. The face was weary and worn,
but ah! it was beautiful, never before nor since have I seen such
beauty, for there was this about the loveliness of my daughter, the
Lily: it seemed to flow from within--yes, as light will flow through
the thin rind of a gourd, and in that she differed from the other
women of our people, who, when they are fair are fair with the flesh
alone.
Nada the Lily |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from An Episode Under the Terror by Honore de Balzac: There was such a ring of sincerity in the words that Sister Agathe
hastily pointed to a chair as if to bid their guest be seated. Sister
Agathe came of the house of Langeais; her manner seemed to indicate
that once she had been familiar with brilliant scenes, and had
breathed the air of courts. The stranger seemed half pleased, half
distressed when he understood her invitation; he waited to sit down
until the women were seated.
"You are giving shelter to a reverend father who refused to take the
oath, and escaped the massacres at the Carmelites by a miracle----"
"HOSANNA!" Sister Agathe exclaimed eagerly, interrupting the stranger,
while she watched him with curious eyes.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Prufrock/Other Observations by T. S. Eliot: Cared for by servants to the number of four.
Now when she died there was silence in heaven
And silence at her end of the street.
The shutters were drawn and the undertaker wiped his feet--
He was aware that this sort of thing had occurred before.
The dogs were handsomely provided for,
But shortly afterwards the parrot died too.
The Dresden clock continued ticking on the mantelpiece,
And the footman sat upon the dining-table
Holding the second housemaid on his knees--
Who had always been so careful while her mistress lived.
Prufrock/Other Observations |
