| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Land of Footprints by Stewart Edward White: mothers galloped along imperturbably unheeding of infantile
troubles aloft. The side hill was bewildering with the big
bobbing black forms.
In this lower country the weather was hot, and the sun very
strong. The heated air was full of the sounds of insects; some of
them comfortable, like the buzzing of bees, some of them strange
and unusual to us. One cicada had a sustained note, in quality
about like that of our own August-day's friend, but in quantity
and duration as the roar of a train to the gentle hum of a good
motor car. Like all cicada noises it did not usurp the sound
world, but constituted itself an underlying basis, so to speak.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Flower Fables by Louisa May Alcott: on the beach, when the great waves swept it into the troubled sea.
With tender tears the Spirits laid the little form to rest upon its
bed of flowers, and, singing mournful songs, as if to make its sleep
more calm and deep, watched long and lovingly above it, till the storm
had died away, and all was still again.
While Ripple sang above the little child, through the distant roar
of winds and waves she heard a wild, sorrowing voice, that seemed to
call for help. Long she listened, thinking it was but the echo of
their own plaintive song, but high above the music still sounded
the sad, wailing cry. Then, stealing silently away, she glided up
through foam and spray, till, through the parting clouds, the sunlight
Flower Fables |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from An Episode Under the Terror by Honore de Balzac: drops of sweat stood out on his broad forehead.
Then the four silent actors in the scene looked mysteriously at one
another; and their souls in emulation seemed to stir and communicate
the thoughts within them until all were melted into one feeling of awe
and pity. It seemed to them that the royal martyr whose remains had
been consumed with quicklime, had been called up by their yearning and
now stood, a shadow in their midst, in all the majesty of a king. They
were celebrating an anniversary service for the dead whose body lay
elsewhere. Under the disjointed laths and tiles, four Christians were
holding a funeral service without a coffin, and putting up prayers to
God for the soul of a King of France. No devotion could be purer than
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