| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Rewards and Fairies by Rudyard Kipling: had touched Cold Iron somewhere in the dark, for the Horses of
the Hill shied off, and whipped round, snorting.
'Then I judged it was time for me to show myself in my own
shape; so I did.
'"Whatever it is," I said, "he has taken hold of it. Now we
must find out whatever it is that he has taken hold of, for that will
be his fortune."
'"Come here, Robin," the Boy shouted, as soon as he heard
my voice. "I don't know what I've hold of."
'"It is in your hands," I called back. "Tell us if it is hard and
cold, with jewels atop. For that will be a King's Sceptre. "
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar by Edgar Rice Burroughs: beside the dead body of the raider. He looked down in
silence for a moment upon the still face, then he
wheeled upon the Arabs.
"Who has done this thing?" he cried. His tone was both
menacing and accusing. "Who has murdered Mohammed Beyd?"
A sudden chorus of voices arose in tumultuous protest.
"Mohammed Beyd was not murdered," they cried. "He died
by his own hand. This, and Allah, are our witnesses,"
and they pointed to a revolver in the dead man's hand.
For a time Werper pretended to be skeptical; but at
last permitted himself to be convinced that Mohammed
Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Egmont by Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe: their gates at its approach. How, with incredible rapidity, they demolished
the cathedral, and burned the library of the bishop. How a vast multitude,
possessed by the like frenzy, dispersed themselves through Menin,
Comines, Verviers, Lille, nowhere encountered opposition; and how,
through almost the whole of Flanders, in a single moment, the monstrous
conspiracy declared itself, and was accomplished.
Regent. Alas! Your recital rends my heart anew; and the fear that the evil
will wax greater and greater, adds to my grief. Tell me your thoughts,
Machiavel!
Machiavel. Pardon me, your Highness, my thoughts will appear to you but
as idle fancies; and though you always seem well satisfied with my
Egmont |
