|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Voyage to Abyssinia by Father Lobo:
religion with. They had taken advantage of the calamity that
happened the year of our arrival: and the Abyssins, with all their
wit, did not consider that they had often been distressed by the
grasshoppers before there came any Jesuits into the country, and
indeed before there were any in the world.
Whilst I was in these mountains, I went on Sundays and saints' days
sometimes to one church and sometimes to another. One day I went
out with a resolution not to go to a certain church, where I
imagined there was no occasion for me, but before I had gone far, I
found myself pressed by a secret impulse to return back to that same
church. I obeyed the influence, and discovered it to proceed from
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf:
the man who had marched past her, with his hand raised, aloof, at the
head of a procession, in his beautiful boots, asking her for sympathy,
which she had refused. The boat was now half way across the bay.
So fine was the morning except for a streak of wind here and there that
the sea and sky looked all one fabric, as if sails were stuck high up
in the sky, or the clouds had dropped down into the sea. A steamer far
out at sea had drawn in the air a great scroll of smoke which stayed
there curving and circling decoratively, as if the air were a fine
gauze which held things and kept them softly in its mesh, only gently
swaying them this way and that. And as happens sometimes when the
weather is very fine, the cliffs looked as if they were conscious of
To the Lighthouse
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy:
"I abhor it too," said he. "How mournfully the wind
blows round us now!"
She did not answer. Its tone was indeed solemn and pervasive.
Compound utterances addressed themselves to their senses, and it
was possible to view by ear the features of the neighbourhood.
Acoustic pictures were returned from the darkened scenery;
they could hear where the tracts of heather began and ended;
where the furze was growing stalky and tall; where it had
been recently cut; in what direction the fir-clump lay,
and how near was the pit in which the hollies grew;
for these differing features had their voices no less
Return of the Native