| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Ten Years Later by Alexandre Dumas: and Ireland, has been replaced upon the throne by a French
grocer, who lives in the Rue des Lombards, and is named
Planchet. And such is grandeur! `Vanity!' says the
Scripture: `vanity, all is vanity.'"
Athos could not help laughing at this whimsical outbreak of
his friend.
"My dear D'Artagnan," said he, pressing his hand
affectionately, "should you not exercise a little more
philosophy? Is it not some further satisfaction to you to
have saved my life as you did by arriving so fortunately
with Monk, when those damned parliamentarians wanted to burn
Ten Years Later |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Tarzan of the Apes by Edgar Rice Burroughs: spear. Presently a faint rustling of the bush apprised him of
the stealthy creeping of the thing behind. It was gathering for
the spring. At last he saw it, not twenty feet away--the long,
lithe, muscular body and tawny head of a huge black-maned lion.
The beast was upon its belly, moving forward very slowly.
As its eyes met Clayton's it stopped, and deliberately,
cautiously gathered its hind quarters behind it.
In agony the man watched, fearful to launch his spear,
powerless to fly.
He heard a noise in the tree above him. Some new danger,
he thought, but he dared not take his eyes from the yellow
Tarzan of the Apes |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Historical Lecturers and Essays by Charles Kingsley: die. He was worn out, it is said, by over-exertion; by sorrow for
the miseries of the land; by fruitless struggles to keep the peace,
and to strive for moderation in days when men were all immoderate.
But he rode away a day's journey--he took two days over it, so weak
he was--in the blazing July sun, to a friend's sick wife at
Realmont, and there took to his bed, and died a good man's death.
The details of his death and last illness were written and published
by his cousin Claude Formy; and well worth reading they are to any
man who wishes to know how to die. Rondelet would have no tidings
of his illness sent to Montpellier. He was happy, he said, in dying
away from the tears of his household, and "safe from insult." He
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