| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Moby Dick by Herman Melville: And then, presto! Ahab seemed a pyramid, and I, like a blazing fool,
kept kicking at it. But what was still more curious, Flask--you know
how curious all dreams are--through all this rage that I was in, I
somehow seemed to be thinking to myself, that after all, it was not
much of an insult, that kick from Ahab. 'Why,' thinks I, 'what's the
row? It's not a real leg, only a false leg.' And there's a mighty
difference between a living thump and a dead thump. That's what
makes a blow from the hand, Flask, fifty times more savage to bear
than a blow from a cane. The living member--that makes the living
insult, my little man. And thinks I to myself all the while, mind,
while I was stubbing my silly toes against that cursed pyramid--so
Moby Dick |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Tom Sawyer, Detective by Mark Twain: wanting to marry their Benny for three months, and at last
they told him point blank and once for all, he COULDN'T;
so he has soured on them, and they're worried about it.
I reckon he's somebody they think they better be on the
good side of, for they've tried to please him by hiring
his no-account brother to help on the farm when they can't
hardly afford it, and don't want him around anyhow.
Who are the Dunlaps?"
"They live about a mile from Uncle Silas's place,
Aunt Polly--all the farmers live about a mile apart
down there--and Brace Dunlap is a long sight richer than
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Passionate Pilgrim by William Shakespeare: A brook where Adon used to cool his spleen:
Hot was the day; she hotter that did look
For his approach, that often there had been.
Anon he comes, and throws his mantle by,
And stood stark naked on the brook's green brim:
The sun look'd on the world with glorious eye,
Yet not so wistly as this queen on him.
He, spying her, bounced in, whereas he stood:
'O Jove,' quoth she, 'why was not I a flood!'
VII.
Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle;
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