| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Michael Strogoff by Jules Verne: you no wish to go and see what is going on there?"
"By Jove, my dear Blount!" exclaimed Alcide Jolivet,
"I was just going to make the same proposal to you."
And that was how the two inseparables set off for China.
A few days after the ceremony, Michael and Nadia
Strogoff, accompanied by Wassili Fedor, took the route to
Europe. The road so full of suffering when going, was a
road of joy in returning. They traveled swiftly, in one
of those sleighs which glide like an express train across
the frozen steppes of Siberia.
However, when they reached the banks of the Dinka,
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Don Quixote by Miquel de Cervantes: he had thrown himself, and attacked the first he found near him with
such rage and fierceness that if we had not dragged him off him, he
would have beaten or bitten him to death, all the while exclaiming,
'Oh faithless Fernando, here, here shalt thou pay the penalty of the
wrong thou hast done me; these hands shall tear out that heart of
thine, abode and dwelling of all iniquity, but of deceit and fraud
above all; and to these he added other words all in effect
upbraiding this Fernando and charging him with treachery and
faithlessness.
"We forced him to release his hold with no little difficulty, and
without another word he left us, and rushing off plunged in among
Don Quixote |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Dreams by Olive Schreiner: lovely radiant thing belonged to us--gladness without a tear, sunshine
without a shade. Oh! how did we sin that we lost it? Where shall we go
that we may find it?"
And she, the wise old woman, answered, "To have it back, will you give up
that which walks beside you now?"
And in agony Love and Life cried, "No!"
"Give up this!" said Life. "When the thorns have pierced me, who will suck
the poison out? When my head throbs, who will lay his tiny hands upon it
and still the beating? In the cold and the dark, who will warm my freezing
heart?"
And Love cried out, "Better let me die! Without Joy I can live; without
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