|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Son of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs:
which he would tell them of the life of their former king since
he had left them.
At other times he would play at meeting with white men. Then he
would enjoy their consternation at sight of a naked white boy
trapped in the war togs of a black warrior and roaming the jungle
with only a great ape as his companion.
And so the days passed, and with the traveling and the hunting
and the climbing the boy's muscles developed and his agility
increased until even phlegmatic Akut marvelled at the prowess
of his pupil. And the boy, realizing his great strength and
revelling in it, became careless. He strode through the jungle,
The Son of Tarzan
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Princess by Alfred Tennyson:
Would still be dear beyond the southern hills;
That were there any of our people there
In want or peril, there was one to hear
And help them? look! for such are these and I.'
'Are you that Psyche,' Florian asked, 'to whom,
In gentler days, your arrow-wounded fawn
Came flying while you sat beside the well?
The creature laid his muzzle on your lap,
And sobbed, and you sobbed with it, and the blood
Was sprinkled on your kirtle, and you wept.
That was fawn's blood, not brother's, yet you wept.
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Memories and Portraits by Robert Louis Stevenson:
pay a flying visit, it was the whole forenoon that he dedicated to
his solitary friend. And so, day by day, he continued to comfort
her solitude until (for some reason which I could never understand
and cannot approve) he was kept locked up to break him of the
graceful habit. Here, it is not the similarity, it is the
difference, that is worthy of remark; the clearly marked degrees of
gratitude and the proportional duration of his visits. Anything
further removed from instinct it were hard to fancy; and one is
even stirred to a certain impatience with a character so destitute
of spontaneity, so passionless in justice, and so priggishly
obedient to the voice of reason.