| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Second Home by Honore de Balzac: Her mother had a green pillow on her knee, and busied herself with
hand-made net; but her fingers could move the bobbin but slowly; her
sight was feeble, for on her nose there rested a pair of those
antiquated spectacles which keep their place on the nostrils by the
grip of a spring. By night these two hardworking women set a lamp
between them; and the light, concentrated by two globe-shaped bottles
of water, showed the elder the fine network made by the threads on her
pillow, and the younger the most delicate details of the pattern she
was embroidering. The outward bend of the window had allowed the girl
to rest a box of earth on the window-sill, in which grew some sweet
peas, nasturtiums, a sickly little honeysuckle, and some convolvulus
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Outlaw of Torn by Edgar Rice Burroughs: and then Bertrade de Montfort, tearing herself from
the restraining hand of her father, rushed to the side
of the lifeless body of the man she loved. Kneeling
there beside him she called his name aloud, as she
unlaced his helm. Tearing the steel headgear from him
she caressed his face, kissing the white forehead and
the still lips.
"Oh God! Oh God!" she murmured. "Why hast thou
taken him? Outlaw though he was, in his little finger
was more of honor, of chivalry, of true manhood than
courses through the veins of all the nobles of England.
The Outlaw of Torn |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Moral Emblems by Robert Louis Stevenson: The hunter slumbered in my shade,
A hundred years ere you were made.'
The second smiled as he returned:
'I shall be here when you are burned.'
So far dissension ruled the pair,
Each turned on each a frowning air,
When flickering from the bank anigh,
A flight of martens met their eye.
Sometime their course they watched; and then -
They nodded off to sleep again.
Poem: IV - THE TRAMPS
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