| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Through the Looking-Glass by Lewis Carroll: `But why don't you scream now?' Alice asked, holding her hands
ready to put over her ears again.
`Why, I've done all the screaming already,' said the Queen.
`What would be the good of having it all over again?'
By this time it was getting light. `The crow must have flown
away, I think,' said Alice: `I'm so glad it's gone. I thought
it was the night coming on.'
`I wish _I_ could manage to be glad!' the Queen said. `Only I
never can remember the rule. You must be very happy, living in
this wood, and being glad whenever you like!'
`Only it is so VERY lonely here!' Alice said in a melancholy
Through the Looking-Glass |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Beauty and The Beast by Bayard Taylor: the snow, and just at the right moment (which no one knew better
than Sasha) the cask of vodki rolled into its place. When the
serfs saw the Prince mount astride of it, with his ladle in his
hand, they burst into shouts of extravagant joy. "Slava Bogu!"
(Glory be to God!) came fervently from the bearded lips of those
hard, rough, obedient children. They tumbled headlong over each
other, in their efforts to drink first from the ladle, to clasp the
knees or kiss the hands of the restored Prince. And the dawn was
glimmering against the eastern stars, as they took the way to the
castle, making the ghostly fir-woods ring with shout and choric
song.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Across The Plains by Robert Louis Stevenson: full - their books are there to prove it - the keen pleasure of
successful literary composition. And yet they fill the globe with
volumes, whose cleverness inspires me with despairing admiration,
and whose consistent falsity to all I care to call existence, with
despairing wrath. If I had no better hope than to continue to
revolve among the dreary and petty businesses, and to be moved by
the paltry hopes and fears with which they surround and animate
their heroes, I declare I would die now. But there has never an
hour of mine gone quite so dully yet; if it were spent waiting at a
railway junction, I would have some scattering thoughts, I could
count some grains of memory, compared to which the whole of one of
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