| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens: It was of no use, however, to propose a return to the place they
had quitted, for the preparations went on so briskly that there was
no time to stop them. John, with the tall candlesticks in his
hands, bowed them up to the fireplace; Hugh, striding in with a
lighted brand and pile of firewood, cast it down upon the hearth,
and set it in a blaze; John Grueby (who had a great blue cockade in
his hat, which he appeared to despise mightily) brought in the
portmanteau he had carried on his horse, and placed it on the
floor; and presently all three were busily engaged in drawing out
the screen, laying the cloth, inspecting the beds, lighting fires
in the bedrooms, expediting the supper, and making everything as
 Barnaby Rudge |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Beyond Good and Evil by Friedrich Nietzsche: cleanliness, which shuns contact with religious men and things;
and it may be just the depth of his tolerance and humanity which
prompts him to avoid the delicate trouble which tolerance itself
brings with it.--Every age has its own divine type of naivete,
for the discovery of which other ages may envy it: and how much
naivete--adorable, childlike, and boundlessly foolish naivete is
involved in this belief of the scholar in his superiority, in the
good conscience of his tolerance, in the unsuspecting, simple
certainty with which his instinct treats the religious man as a
lower and less valuable type, beyond, before, and ABOVE which he
himself has developed--he, the little arrogant dwarf and mob-man,
 Beyond Good and Evil |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen: You know I have a pretty good spirit of my own.
Anne Mitchell had tried to put on a turban like
mine, as I wore it the week before at the concert,
but made wretched work of it--it happened to become
my odd face, I believe, at least Tilney told me so
at the time, and said every eye was upon me; but he
is the last man whose word I would take. I wear
nothing but purple now: I know I look hideous in
it, but no matter-- it is your dear brother's
favourite colour. Lose no time, my dearest, sweetest
Catherine, in writing to him and to me,
 Northanger Abbey |