| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling: Afghan War of 1842, and he had not then come to his full strength.
His mother Radha Pyari,--Radha the darling,--who had been
caught in the same drive with Kala Nag, told him, before his
little milk tusks had dropped out, that elephants who were afraid
always got hurt. Kala Nag knew that that advice was good, for the
first time that he saw a shell burst he backed, screaming, into a
stand of piled rifles, and the bayonets pricked him in all his
softest places. So, before he was twenty-five, he gave up being
afraid, and so he was the best-loved and the best-looked-after
elephant in the service of the Government of India. He had
carried tents, twelve hundred pounds' weight of tents, on the
 The Jungle Book |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Little Rivers by Henry van Dyke: September, and dark-haired women were carrying great creels of fish
on their shoulders, and groups of sunburned men were smoking among
the fishing-boats on the beach and talking about fish, and sea-
gulls were floating over the houses with their heads turning from
side to side and their bright eyes peering everywhere for
unconsidered trifles of fish, and the whole atmosphere of the
place, physical, mental, and moral, was pervaded with fish. It was
Sheila's soft, sing-song Highland speech that we heard through the
long, luminous twilight in the pauses of that friendly chat on the
balcony of the little inn where a good fortune brought us
acquainted with Sam Bough, the mellow Edinburgh painter. It was
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Ebb-Tide by Stevenson & Osbourne: here beyond me. Think of that calaboose! Suppose we
were sent suddenly back.' He shuddered as though stung by a
convulsion, and buried his face in his clutching hands.
'Here, what's wrong with you?' cried the captain. There was
no reply; only Herrick's shoulders heaved, so that the table was
shaken. 'Take some more of this. Here, drink this. I order you
to. Don't start crying when you're out of the wood.'
'I'm not crying,' said Herrick, raising his face and showing his
dry eyes. 'It's worse than crying. It's the horror of that grave
that we've escaped from.'
'Come now, you tackle your soup; that'll fix you,' said Davis
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