| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Child of Storm by H. Rider Haggard: save the life of her first child, whom she could not forget, if for no
other reason. Whilst I was talking to her of that sad matter, also of
the political state of the country, as to which I think she wished to
say something to me, Mameena entered the hut, without waiting to be
asked, and sat down, whereon Nandie became suddenly silent.
This, however, did not trouble Mameena, who talked away about anything
and everything, completely ignoring the head-wife. For a while Nandie
bore it with patience, but at length she took advantage of a pause in
the conversation to say in her firm, low voice:
"This is my hut, daughter of Umbezi, a thing which you remember well
enough when it is a question whether Saduko, our husband, shall visit
Child of Storm |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Travels with a Donkey in the Cevenne by Robert Louis Stevenson: to myself, and know nothing of the woman except that she had
beautiful arms, and seemed no whit embarrassed by my appearance.
As a matter of fact, the situation was more trying to me than to
the pair. A pair keep each other in countenance; it is the single
gentleman who has to blush. But I could not help attributing my
sentiments to the husband, and sought to conciliate his tolerance
with a cup of brandy from my flask. He told me that he was a
cooper of Alais travelling to St. Etienne in search of work, and
that in his spare moments he followed the fatal calling of a maker
of matches. Me he readily enough divined to be a brandy merchant.
I was up first in the morning (Monday, September 23rd), and
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Flame and Shadow by Sara Teasdale: "The smiles are like stars in her eyes,
And her laugh is thistledown
Around her low replies."
"Is she unhappy?" you said --
But who has ever known
Another's heartbreak --
All he can know is his own;
And she seems hushed to me,
As hushed as though
Her heart were a hunter's fire
Smothered in snow.
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