| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from My Aunt Margaret's Mirror by Walter Scott: or indirectly, his unfortunate lady began now to feel a sort of
consolation even in those careless habits which had so often
given her pain. "He is so thoughtless," she repeated a hundred
times a day to her sister, "he never writes when things are going
on smoothly. It is his way. Had anything happened, he would
have informed us."
Lady Bothwell listened to her sister without attempting to
console her. Probably she might be of opinion that even the
worst intelligence which could be received from Flanders might
not be without some touch of consolation; and that the Dowager
Lady Forester, if so she was doomed to be called, might have a
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Life of the Spider by J. Henri Fabre: nothing; the huntress refuses to leave her lair.
Fortune at last smiles upon my patience, which has been heavily
tried by all these prudent retreats and particularly by the fierce
heat of the dog-days. A Spider suddenly rushes from her hole: she
has been rendered warlike, doubtless, by prolonged abstinence. The
tragedy that happens under the cover of the bottle lasts for but
the twinkling of an eye. It is over: the sturdy Carpenter-bee is
dead. Where did the murderess strike her? That is easily
ascertained: the Tarantula has not let go; and her fangs are
planted in the nape of the neck. The assassin has the knowledge
which I suspected: she has made for the essentially vital centre,
The Life of the Spider |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Lamentable Tragedy of Locrine and Mucedorus by William Shakespeare: MUCEDORUS.
Stay there, the wild man comes.
Refer the rest until another time.
[Enter Bremo.]
BREMO.
What secret tale is this? what whispering have we here?
Villain, I charge thee tell thy tale again.
MUCEDORUS.
If needs I must, lo, here it is again:
When as we both had lost the sight of thee,
It grieved us both, but specially thy queen,
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