|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Grimm's Fairy Tales by Brothers Grimm:
trouble.' Then he took the string in his hand, and drove off the pig
by a side path; while Hans went on the way homewards free from care.
'After all,' thought he, 'that chap is pretty well taken in. I don't
care whose pig it is, but wherever it came from it has been a very
good friend to me. I have much the best of the bargain. First there
will be a capital roast; then the fat will find me in goose-grease for
six months; and then there are all the beautiful white feathers. I
will put them into my pillow, and then I am sure I shall sleep soundly
without rocking. How happy my mother will be! Talk of a pig, indeed!
Give me a fine fat goose.'
As he came to the next village, he saw a scissor-grinder with his
Grimm's Fairy Tales
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Betty Zane by Zane Grey:
children. But he was restless in the settlement, and his sojourns grew briefer
and more infrequent as time rolled on. True to his conviction that no wife
existed on earth for him, he never married. His home was the trackless wilds,
where he was true to his calling--a foe to the redman.
Wonderful to relate his long, black hair never adorned the walls of an
Indian's lodge, where a warrior might point with grim pride and say: "No more
does the Deathwind blow over the hills and vales." We could tell of how his
keen eye once again saw Wingenund over the sights of his fatal rifle, and how
he was once again a prisoner in the camp of that lifelong foe, but that's
another story, which, perhaps, we may tell some day.
To-day the beautiful city of Wheeling rises on the banks of the Ohio, where
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Tales of Unrest by Joseph Conrad:
behind the great fantastic and unstirring leaves; the darkness,
mysterious and invincible; the darkness scented and poisonous of
The men poled in the shoaling water. The creek broadened, opening out
into a wide sweep of a stagnant lagoon. The forests receded from the
marshy bank, leaving a level strip of bright green, reedy grass to
frame the reflected blueness of the sky. A fleecy pink cloud drifted
high above, trailing the delicate colouring of its image under the
floating leaves and the silvery blossoms of the lotus. A little house,
perched on high piles, appeared black in the distance. Near it, two
tall nibong palms, that seemed to have come out of the forests in the
Tales of Unrest