| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Nana, Miller's Daughter, Captain Burle, Death of Olivier Becaille by Emile Zola: said Zoe with a grin. "He only wanted to tell Madame that he
couldn't come to-night."
There was vast joy at this announcement, and Nana clapped her hands.
He wasn't coming, what good luck! She would be free then! And she
emitted sighs of relief, as though she had been let off the most
abominable of tortures. Her first thought was for Daguenet. Poor
duck, why, she had just written to tell him to wait till Thursday!
Quick, quick, Mme Maloir should write a second letter! But Zoe
announced that Mme Maloir had slipped away unnoticed, according to
her wont. Whereupon Nana, after talking of sending someone to him,
began to hesitate. She was very tired. A long night's sleep--oh,
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates by Howard Pyle: Another notable no less famous than these two worthies was Roch
Braziliano, the truculent Dutchman who came up from the coast of
Brazil to the Spanish Main with a name ready-made for him. Upon
the very first adventure which he undertook he captured a plate
ship of fabulous value, and brought her safely into Jamaica; and
when at last captured by the Spaniards, he fairly frightened them
into letting him go by truculent threats of vengeance from his
followers.
Such were three of the pirate buccaneers who infested the Spanish
Main. There were hundreds no less desperate, no less reckless,
no less insatiate in their lust for plunder, than they.
Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Dreams by Olive Schreiner: the man, or I, I could not tell; we were all blended. I cried to God,
"Where are you?" but there was no answer, only music and light.
Afterwards, when it had grown so dark again that I could see things
separately, I found that I was standing there wrapped tight in my little
old, brown, earthly cloak, and God and the man were separated from each
other, and from me.
I did not dare say I would go and make music beside the man. I knew I
could not reach even to his knee, nor move the instrument he played. But I
thought I would stand there on my little peak and sing an accompaniment to
that great music. And I tried; but my voice failed. It piped and
quavered. I could not sing that tune. I was silent.
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