| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell: looking carefully over her shoulder to make sure Mammy was not
observing her from the upstairs windows. Seeing no broad black
face, turbaned in snowy white, peering disapprovingly from between
fluttering curtains, she boldly snatched up her green flowered
skirts and sped down the path toward the driveway as fast as her
small ribbon-laced slippers would carry her.
The dark cedars on either side of the graveled drive met in an
arch overhead, turning the long avenue into a dim tunnel. As soon
as she was beneath the gnarled arms of the cedars, she knew she
was safe from observation from the house and she slowed her swift
pace. She was panting, for her stays were laced too tightly to
 Gone With the Wind |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Sportsman by Xenophon: much as to say they will not squander their private means; since with
the state itself the domestic fortunes of each are saved or lost. The
real fact is, these men are saviours, not of their own fortunes only,
but of the private fortunes of the rest, of yours and mine. Yet there
are not a few irrational people amongst these cavillers who, out of
jealousy, would rather perish, thanks to their own baseness, than owe
their lives to the virtue of their neighbours. So true is it that the
mass of pleasures are but evil,[16] to which men succumb, and thereby
are incited to adopt the worse cause in speech and course in
action.[17] And with what result?--from vain and empty arguments they
contract emnities, and reap the fruit of evil deeds, diseases, losses,
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Several Works by Edgar Allan Poe: clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes
of the chime die away--they have endured but an instant--and a
light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And
now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and
fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many tinted windows
through which stream the rays from the tripods. But to the chamber
which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the
maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows
a ruddier light through the blood-coloured panes; and the blackness
of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the
sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled
|