| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Story of an African Farm by Olive Schreiner: needed; and in the week of Christmas holidays I went to see the sea. I
walked all night, Lyndall, to escape the heat, and a little after sunrise I
got to the top of a high hill. Before me was a long, low, blue, monotonous
mountain. I walked looking at it, but I was thinking of the sea I wanted
to see. At last I wondered what that curious blue thing might be; then it
struck me it was the sea! I would have turned back again, only I was too
tired. I wonder if all the things we long to see--the churches, the
pictures, the men in Europe--will disappoint us so! You see I had dreamed
of it so long. When I was a little boy, minding sheep behind the kopje, I
used to see the waves stretching out as far as the eye could reach in the
sunlight. My sea! Is the idea always more beautiful than the real?
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Tom Grogan by F. Hopkinson Smith: a dream. She heard nothing but the voice of Jennie and her lover,
saw only the white face of her boy. A sickening sense of utter
loneliness swept over her. She rose and moved away.
During all this time Cully was watching the dying embers, and when
all danger was over,--only the small stable with its two horses
had been destroyed,--he led the Big Gray back to the pump, washed
his head, sponging his eyes and mouth, and housed him in the big
stable. Then he vanished.
Immediately on leaving the Big Gray, Cully had dodged behind the
stable, run rapidly up the hill, keeping close to the fence, and
had come out behind a group of scattering spectators. There he
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from My Aunt Margaret's Mirror by Walter Scott: agency."
"But, my dear aunt," said I, "what became of the man of skill?"
"Oh, he was too good a fortune-teller not to be able to foresee
that his own destiny would be tragical if he waited the arrival
of the man with the silver greyhound upon his sleeve. He made,
as we say, a moonlight flitting, and was nowhere to be seen or
heard of. Some noise there was about papers or letters found in
the house; but it died away, and Doctor Baptista Damiotti was
soon as little talked of as Galen or Hippocrates."
"And Sir Philip Forester," said I, "did he too vanish for ever
from the public scene?"
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