| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Master of Ballantrae by Robert Louis Stevenson: ancient sailor-man who dwelt in a lone house beyond the Figgate
Whins (I believe, he called it after Portobello), and how the boys
would troop out of Leith on a Saturday, and sit and listen to his
swearing tales, as thick as crows about a carrion: a thing I often
remarked as I went by, a young student, on my own more meditative
holiday diversion. Many of these boys went, no doubt, in the face
of an express command; many feared and even hated the old brute of
whom they made their hero; and I have seen them flee from him when
he was tipsy, and stone him when he was drunk. And yet there they
came each Saturday! How much more easily would a boy like Mr.
Alexander fall under the influence of a high-looking, high-spoken
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Long Odds by H. Rider Haggard: rending and tearing, and crunching poor Kaptein's bones; and there I lay
shaking with terror, and the cold perspiration pouring out of me,
feeling like another Daniel come to judgment in a new sense of the
phrase. Presently the cubs had eaten their fill, and began to get
restless. One went round to the back of the waggon and pulled at the
Impala buck that hung there, and the other came round my way and
commenced the sniffing game at my leg. Indeed, he did more than that,
for, my trouser being hitched up a little, he began to lick the bare
skin with his rough tongue. The more he licked the more he liked it, to
judge from his increased vigour and the loud purring noise he made.
Then I knew that the end had come, for in another second his file-like
 Long Odds |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells: obstructive crowd. A little farther on the dry reeds up the
bank were smoking and glowing, and a line of fire inland was
marching steadily across a late field of hay.
For a long time I drifted, so painful and weary was I after
the violence I had been through, and so intense the heat upon
the water. Then my fears got the better of me again, and I
resumed my paddling. The sun scorched my bare back. At
last, as the bridge at Walton was coming into sight round the
bend, my fever and faintness overcame my fears, and I landed
on the Middlesex bank and lay down, deadly sick, amid the
long grass. I suppose the time was then about four or five
 War of the Worlds |