| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Koran: earned availed them naught.
We did not create the heavens and the earth and all that is
between them both, save in truth. And, verily, the Hour is surely
coming; then do thou pardon with a fair pardon,
Verily, thy Lord He is the creator, the knowing! We have already
brought thee Seven of the Repetition, and the mighty Koran.
Let not thine eyes strain after what we have allowed a few pairs
of them to enjoy, nor grieve for them; but lower thy wing to the
believers, and say, 'Verily, I am an obvious warner.'
As we sent down (punishment) on the separatists who dismember the
Koran.
 The Koran |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Message by Honore de Balzac: Some little time had passed since we left the dinner-table; I had
scarcely given a thought to the Count since we left him under the
peristyle; his indifference had surprised me, but my amazement
increased when we came back and found him seated philosophically
at table. He had eaten pretty nearly all the dinner, to the huge
delight of his little daughter; the child was smiling at her
father's flagrant infraction of the Countess' rules. The man's
odd indifference was explained to me by a mild altercation which
at once arose with the canon. The Count was suffering from some
serious complaint. I cannot remember now what it was, but his
medical advisers had put him on a very severe regimen, and the
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Emmuska Orczy: "Half an hour," she said, looking wistfully out to sea, "half
an hour more and you'll be far from me, Armand! Oh! I can't believe
that you are going, dear! These last few days--whilst Percy has been
away, and I've had you all to myself, have slipped by like a dream."
"I am not going far, sweet one," said the young man gently, "a
narrow channel to cross-a few miles of road--I can soon come back."
"Nay, `tis not the distance, Armand--but that awful Paris. . .
just now. . ."
They had reached the edge of the cliff. The gentle sea-breeze
blew Marguerite's hair about her face, and sent the ends of her soft
lace fichu waving round her, like a white and supple snake. She tried
 The Scarlet Pimpernel |