| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Agesilaus by Xenophon: element in his preparation was lacking, felt that the moment was come
to join battle if he could. Accordingly he sacrificed and advanced
against the opposing lines of cavalry. A detachment of heavy infantry,
the ten-years-service men, had orders to close with them at the run,
while the light infantry division were told to show them the way at a
swinging pace. At the same time he passed the order along the line of
his cavalry to charge in reliance of the support of himself and the
main body in their rear. Charge they did, these troopers, and the pick
of Persian cavalry received them bravely, but in face of the conjoint
horror of the attack they swerved, and some were cut down at once in
the river-bed, while others sought safety in flight. The Hellenes
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Dead Souls by Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol: form over the backs of the troika. This time, however, there could be
heard issuing from Selifan's sullen lips only the uniformly unpleasant
exclamation, "Now then, you brutes! Get on with you, get on with you!"
The bay and the Assessor too felt put out at not hearing themselves
called "my pets" or "good lads"; while, in addition, the skewbald came
in for some nasty cuts across his sleek and ample quarters. "What has
put master out like this?" thought the animal as it shook its head.
"Heaven knows where he does not keep beating me--across the back, and
even where I am tenderer still. Yes, he keeps catching the whip in my
ears, and lashing me under the belly."
"To the right, eh?" snapped Selifan to the girl beside him as he pointed
Dead Souls |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Octopus by Frank Norris: imagination.
He started homeward, still in his dream, descending from the
hill, emerging from the canyon, and took the short cut straight
across the Quien Sabe ranch, leaving Guadalajara far to his left.
He tramped steadily on through the wheat stubble, walking fast,
his head in a whirl.
Never had he so nearly grasped his inspiration as at that moment
on the hilltop. Even now, though the sunset was fading, though
the wide reach of valley was shut from sight, it still kept him
company. Now the details came thronging back--the component
parts of his poem, the signs and symbols of the West. It was
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