| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Tanglewood Tales by Nathaniel Hawthorne: quaff wine abundantly, and thus to recompense them- selves, at
this one banquet, for the many days when they had gone without
a dinner. But whenever the mariners were not looking at them
(which was pretty often, as they looked chiefly into the basins
and platters), the beautiful woman and her damsels turned
aside, and laughed. Even the servants, as they knelt down to
present the dishes, might be seen to grin and sneer, while the
guests were helping themselves to the offered dainties.
And, once in a while, the strangers seemed to taste something
that they did not like.
"Here is an odd kind of spice in this dish," said one. "I can't
Tanglewood Tales |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Little Rivers by Henry van Dyke: There are rivers in the Lewis, at least two of them, and on one of
these we had the offer of a rod for a day's fishing. Accordingly
we cast lots, and the lot fell upon the youngest, and I went forth
with a tall, red-legged gillie, to try for my first salmon. The
Whitewater came singing down out of the moorland into a rocky
valley, and there was a merry curl of air on the pools, and the
silver fish were leaping from the stream. The gillie handled the
big rod as if it had been a fairy's wand, but to me it was like a
giant's spear. It was a very different affair from fishing with
five ounces of split bamboo on a Long Island trout-pond. The
monstrous fly, like an awkward bird, went fluttering everywhere but
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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: Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest.
Not daring trust the office of mine eyes,
While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark,
And wish her lays were tuned like the lark;
For she doth welcome daylight with her ditty,
And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night:
The night so pack'd, I post unto my pretty;
Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight;
Sorrow changed to solace, solace mix'd with sorrow;
For why, she sigh'd and bade me come tomorrow.
Were I with her, the night would post too soon;
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