|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Of The Nature of Things by Lucretius:
For from all food-stuff, when once eaten down,
Go sundered atoms, suited to each creature,
Throughout their bodies, and, conjoining there,
Produce the proper motions; but we see
How, contrariwise, nature upon the ground
Throws off those foreign to their frame; and many
With viewless bodies from their bodies fly,
By blows impelled- those impotent to join
To any part, or, when inside, to accord
And to take on the vital motions there.
But think not, haply, living forms alone
Of The Nature of Things
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf:
forward; now she said nothing. For the moment, she hung suspended.
"Ah, but how long do you think it'll last?" said somebody. It was as
if she had antennae trembling out from her, which, intercepting certain
sentences, forced them upon her attention. This was one of them. She
scented danger for her husband. A question like that would lead,
almost certainly, to something being said which reminded him of his own
failure. How long would he be read--he would think at once. William
Bankes (who was entirely free from all such vanity) laughed, and said
he attached no importance to changes in fashion. Who could tell what
was going to last--in literature or indeed in anything else?
"Let us enjoy what we do enjoy," he said. His integrity seemed to Mrs
To the Lighthouse
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Polly of the Circus by Margaret Mayo:
He started back on opening it, for standing on the threshold was
a clown in his grotesque "make-up"; his white clothes were
partially concealed by a large, travelling ulster, held together
by one button. In one hand he carried a small leather satchel;
in the other a girl's sailor hat; a little tan coat was thrown
across his arm. The giggles of the boy hiding behind his
mother's skirt were the only greetings received by the trembling
old man in the doorway.
He glanced uncertainly from one unfriendly face to the other,
waiting for a word of invitation to enter; but none came.
"Excuse me," he said; "I just brought some of her little things.