| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Road to Oz by L. Frank Baum: At noon they stopped at a farmhouse, where it delighted the farmer and
his wife to be able to give them a good luncheon. The farm people
knew Dorothy, having seen her when she was in the country before, and
they treated the little girl with as much respect as they did the
Emperor, because she was a friend of the powerful Princess Ozma.
They had not proceeded far after leaving this farm-house before coming
to a high bridge over a broad river. This river, the Tin Woodman
informed them, was the boundary between the Country of the Winkies and
the territory of the Emerald City. The city itself was still a long
way off, but all around it was a green meadow as pretty as a well-kept
lawn, and in this were neither houses nor farms to spoil the beauty of
The Road to Oz |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Fables by Robert Louis Stevenson: strange matter that a man should cling so to a shoe of a horse, and
it rusty; and that he should offer it like a thing on sale, and yet
not sell it; and that he should sit there seeking a wife. If I
come not to the bottom of this thing, I shall have no more pleasure
in bread; and I can see no way, but either I should hang or you
should marry him."
"By my troth, but he is bitter ugly," said the Earl's daughter.
"How if the gallows be so near at hand?"
"It was not so," said the Earl, "that my fathers did in the ancient
ages. I am like the man, and can give you neither a better reason
nor a worse. But do you, prithee, speak with him again."
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Chita: A Memory of Last Island by Lafcadio Hearn: Chancellorsville, Laroussel had begun to tell him such a singular
story ... Chance had brought them,--the old enemies,--together;
made them dear friends in the face of Death. How little he had
comprehended the man!---what a brave, true, simple soul went up
that day to the Lord of Battles! ... What was it--that story
about the little Creole girl saved from Last Island,--that story
which was never finished? ... Eh! what a pain!
Evidently he had worked too much, slept too little. A decided
case of nervous prostration. He must lie down, and try to sleep.
These pains in the head and back were becoming unbearable.
Nothing but rest could avail him now.
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