| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Voyage to Abyssinia by Father Lobo: unsuccessful attempts, King John the Third, having made Don Stephen
de Gama, son of the celebrated Don Vasco de Gama, viceroy of the
Indies, gave him orders to enter the Red Sea in pursuit of the
Turkish galleys, and to fall upon them wherever he found them, even
in the Port of Suez. The viceroy, in obedience to the king's
commands, equipped a powerful fleet, went on board himself, and
cruised about the coast without being able to discover the Turkish
vessels. Enraged to find that with this great preparation he should
be able to effect nothing, he landed at Mazna four hundred
Portuguese, under the command of Don Christopher de Gama, his
brother. He was soon joined by some Abyssins, who had not yet
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Night and Day by Virginia Woolf: somehow, he was safe with her, that she would see him through, find
out what it was that he wanted, and procure it for him.
"I wish to do whatever you tell me to do," he said. "I put myself
entirely in your hands, Katharine."
"You must try to tell me what you feel," she said.
"My dear, I feel a thousand things every second. I don't know, I'm
sure, what I feel. That afternoon on the heath--it was then--then--"
He broke off; he did not tell her what had happened then. "Your
ghastly good sense, as usual, has convinced me--for the moment--but
what the truth is, Heaven only knows!" he exclaimed.
"Isn't it the truth that you are, or might be, in love with
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Madam How and Lady Why by Charles Kingsley: flowers are dead and brown, except here and there a poor half-
withered scrap of bottle-heath, and nothing left for you to catch
either, for the butterflies and insects are all dead too, except
one poor old Daddy-long-legs, who sits upon that piece of turf,
boring a hole with her tail to lay her eggs in, before the frost
catches her and ends her like the rest: though all things, I say,
seem dead, yet there is plenty of life around you, at your feet, I
may almost say in the very stones on which you tread. And though
the place itself be dreary enough, a sheet of flat heather and a
little glen in it, with banks of dead fern, and a brown bog
between them, and a few fir-trees struggling up--yet, if you only
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