| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Long Odds by H. Rider Haggard: after her a couple of cubs about the size of mastiffs. She stopped
within a few feet of my head, and stood, waved her tail, and fixed me
with her glowing yellow eyes; but just as I thought that it was all over
she turned and began to feed on Kaptein, and so did the cubs. There
were the four of them within eight feet of me, growling and quarrelling,
rending and tearing, and crunching poor Kaptein's bones; and there I lay
shaking with terror, and the cold perspiration pouring out of me,
feeling like another Daniel come to judgment in a new sense of the
phrase. Presently the cubs had eaten their fill, and began to get
restless. One went round to the back of the waggon and pulled at the
Impala buck that hung there, and the other came round my way and
Long Odds |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from On the Duty of Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau: It seemed to me that I never had heard the town clock strike
before, not the evening sounds of the village; for we slept
with the windows open, which were inside the grating. It
was to see my native village in the light of the Middle
Ages, and our Concord was turned into a Rhine stream, and
visions of knights and castles passed before me. They were
the voices of old burghers that I heard in the streets. I
was an involuntary spectator and auditor of whatever was
done and said in the kitchen of the adjacent village inn--a
wholly new and rare experience to me. It was a closer view
of my native town. I was fairly inside of it. I never had
On the Duty of Civil Disobedience |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Lady Baltimore by Owen Wister: moreover, below the confusion that still a little reigned in them was the
primal cunning of the old Adam, the native man, quite untroubled and
alert--it saw John's look at me and it prompted my course.
"Yes," I said. "He wants the truth from me. Where's his letter? No harm
reading you without names." And I fumbled in my pocket.
"Letter gone. Never mind. Facts are: friend's asked girl. Girl's said
yes. Now he thinks he's bound by that."
"He thinks right," said John.
"Not a bit of it. You take Tannhauser. Engagement to Venus all a mistake.
Perfectly proper to break it. Much more than proper. Only honorable thing
he could do. I'm going to write it to him. Where's ink?" And I got up.
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