| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Nada the Lily by H. Rider Haggard: yonder fire. Run swiftly and stamp it flat with your feet. Where there
was fire let there be blackness and ashes."
Now the White Man lifted his hands and prayed Dingaan not to do this
thing that should be the death of many, but the king bade him be
silent. Then he turned his eyes upward and prayed to his gods. For a
moment also the soldiers looked on each other in doubt, for the fire
raged furiously, and spouts of flame shot high toward the heaven, and
above it and about it the hot air danced. But their captain called to
them loudly: "Great is the king! Hear the words of the king, who
honours you! Yesterday we ate up the Amaboona--it was nothing, they
were unarmed. There is a foe more worthy of our valour. Come, my
Nada the Lily |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from On the Origin of Species by Charles Darwin: of the Weald. Though it must be admitted that the denudation of the Weald
has been a mere trifle, in comparison with that which has removed masses of
our palaeozoic strata, in parts ten thousand feet in thickness, as shown in
Prof. Ramsay's masterly memoir on this subject. Yet it is an admirable
lesson to stand on the North Downs and to look at the distant South Downs;
for, remembering that at no great distance to the west the northern and
southern escarpments meet and close, one can safely picture to oneself the
great dome of rocks which must have covered up the Weald within so limited
a period as since the latter part of the Chalk formation. The distance
from the northern to the southern Downs is about 22 miles, and the
thickness of the several formations is on an average about 1100 feet, as I
On the Origin of Species |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Nana, Miller's Daughter, Captain Burle, Death of Olivier Becaille by Emile Zola: rows in front of his own. Close to him, a very young man, seventeen
years old at the outside, some truant from college, it may be, was
straining wide a pair of fine eyes such as a cherub might have
owned. Fauchery smiled when he looked at him.
"Who is that lady in the balcony?" La Faloise asked suddenly. "The
lady with a young girl in blue beside her."
He pointed out a large woman who was excessively tight-laced, a
woman who had been a blonde and had now become white and yellow of
tint, her broad face, reddened with paint, looking puffy under a
rain of little childish curls.
"It's Gaga," was Fauchery's simple reply, and as this name seemed to
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