| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Georgics by Virgil: Of kine grim-faced is goodliest, with coarse head
And burly neck, whose hanging dewlaps reach
From chin to knee; of boundless length her flank;
Large every way she is, large-footed even,
With incurved horns and shaggy ears beneath.
Nor let mislike me one with spots of white
Conspicuous, or that spurns the yoke, whose horn
At times hath vice in't: liker bull-faced she,
And tall-limbed wholly, and with tip of tail
Brushing her footsteps as she walks along.
The age for Hymen's rites, Lucina's pangs,
Georgics |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Adventure by Jack London: and the charred match which had lighted it. In front lay a
scattering of bright metallic fragments. Sheldon recognized their
significance. Tudor was notching his steel-jacketed bullets, or
cutting them blunt, so that they would spread on striking--in
short, he was making them into the vicious dum-dum prohibited in
modern warfare. Sheldon knew now what would happen to him if a
bullet struck his body. It would leave a tiny hole where it
entered, but the hole where it emerged would be the size of a
saucer.
He decided to give up the pursuit, and lay down in the grass,
protected right and left by the row of palms, with on either hand
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Life in the Iron-Mills by Rebecca Davis: her face its apathy and vacancy more than her low, torpid life.
One sees that dead, vacant look steal sometimes over the rarest,
finest of women's faces,--in the very midst, it may be, of their
warmest summer's day; and then one can guess at the secret of
intolerable solitude that lies hid beneath the delicate laces
and brilliant smile. There was no warmth, no brilliancy, no
summer for this woman; so the stupor and vacancy had time to
gnaw into her face perpetually. She was young, too, though no
one guessed it; so the gnawing was the fiercer.
She lay quiet in the dark corner, listening, through the
monotonous din and uncertain glare of the works, to the dull
Life in the Iron-Mills |
