| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Master and Man by Leo Tolstoy: out and where the white shirt had broken loose and was now
attached only by one frozen sleeve, they again came within
sound of the weird moan of the willows, and again emerged on
the open fields. The storm, far from ceasing, seemed to have
grown yet stronger. The road was completely covered with
drifting snow, and only the stakes showed that they had not
lost their way. But even the stakes ahead of them were not
easy to see, since the wind blew in their faces.
Vasili Andreevich screwed up his eyes, bent down his head, and
looked out for the way-marks, but trusted mainly to the horse's
sagacity, letting it take its own way. And the horse really
Master and Man |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Out of Time's Abyss by Edgar Rice Burroughs: he had at any time since he had been captured by the Wieroo,
for there appeared not the slightest cause for hope in his
present predicament. He had dropped the curved blade beneath the
hides when he had been jerked so violently from their fancied security.
It was almost in a spirit of resigned hopelessness that he quietly
accompanied his captors through various chambers and corridors
toward the heart of the temple.
Chapter 4
The farther the group progressed, the more barbaric and the more
sumptuous became the decorations. Hides of leopard and tiger
predominated, apparently because of their more beautiful
Out of Time's Abyss |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Pierre Grassou by Honore de Balzac: cleanliness, which was all the more visible because the pure and
little changing light from the north flooded with its cold clear beams
the vast apartment. Fougeres, being merely a genre painter, does not
need the immense machinery and outfit which ruin historical painters;
he has never recognized within himself sufficient faculty to attempt
high-art, and he therefore clings to easel painting.
At the beginning of the month of December of that year, a season at
which the bourgeois of Paris conceive, periodically, the burlesque
idea of perpetuating their forms and figures already too bulky in
themselves, Pierre Grassou, who had risen early, prepared his palette,
and lighted his stove, was eating a roll steeped in milk, and waiting
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