| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Son of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs: rear guard of the caravan and the white men he had been so
anxious to overtake.
Stumbling along the tangled trail of those ahead a dozen
heavily laden blacks who, from fatigue or sickness, had dropped
behind were being prodded by the black soldiers of the rear
guard, kicked when they fell, and then roughly jerked to their
feet and hustled onward. On either side walked a giant white
man, heavy blonde beards almost obliterating their countenances.
The boy's lips formed a glad cry of salutation as his eyes first
discovered the whites--a cry that was never uttered, for almost
immediately he witnessed that which turned his happiness to anger
The Son of Tarzan |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne: "The Captain must be very sure of his route, for I see there pieces of coral
that would do for its keel if it only touched them slightly."
Indeed the situation was dangerous, but the Nautilus seemed to slide
like magic off these rocks. It did not follow the routes of the
Astrolabe and the Zelee exactly, for they proved fatal to Dumont
d'Urville. It bore more northwards, coasted the Islands of Murray,
and came back to the south-west towards Cumberland Passage.
I thought it was going to pass it by, when, going back to north-west,
it went through a large quantity of islands and islets little known,
towards the Island Sound and Canal Mauvais.
I wondered if Captain Nemo, foolishly imprudent, would steer his
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Father Damien by Robert Louis Stevenson: ocean a certain triangular and rugged down, grassy, stony, windy,
and rising in the midst into a hill with a dead crater: the whole
bearing to the cliff that overhangs it somewhat the same relation
as a bracket to a wall. With this hint you will now be able to
pick out the leper station on a map; you will be able to judge how
much of Molokai is thus cut off between the surf and precipice,
whether less than a half, or less than a quarter, or a fifth, or a
tenth - or, say a twentieth; and the next time you burst into print
you will be in a position to share with us the issue of your
calculations.
I imagine you to be one of those persons who talk with cheerfulness
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