|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Tanach:
Job 4: 14 Fear came upon me, and trembling, and all my bones were made to shake.
Job 4: 15 Then a spirit passed before my face, that made the hair of my flesh to stand up.
Job 4: 16 It stood still, but I could not discern the appearance thereof; a form was before mine eyes; I heard a still voice:
Job 4: 17 'Shall mortal man be just before God? Shall a man be pure before his Maker?
Job 4: 18 Behold, He putteth no trust in His servants, and His angels He chargeth with folly;
Job 4: 19 How much more them that dwell in houses of clay, whose foundation is in the dust, who are crushed before the moth!
Job 4: 20 Betwixt morning and evening they are shattered; they perish for ever without any regarding it.
Job 4: 21 Is not their tent-cord plucked up within them? They die, and that without wisdom.'
Job 5: 1 Call now; is there any that will answer thee? And to which of the holy ones wilt thou turn?
Job 5: 2 For anger killeth the foolish man, and envy slayeth the silly one.
Job 5: 3 I have seen the foolish taking root; but suddenly I beheld his habitation cursed.
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Across The Plains by Robert Louis Stevenson:
immaculate, certainly all will be to match - the reflectors
scratched, the spare lamp unready, the storm-panes in the
storehouse. If a light is not rather more than middling good, it
will be radically bad. Mediocrity (except in literature) appears
to be unattainable by man. But of course the unfortunate of St.
Andrews was only an amateur, he was not in the Service, he had no
uniform coat, he was (I believe) a plumber by his trade and stood
(in the mediaeval phrase) quite out of the danger of my father; but
he had a painful interview for all that, and perspired extremely.
From St. Andrews, we drove over Magus Muir. My father had
announced we were "to post," and the phrase called up in my hopeful
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Case of the Golden Bullet by Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner:
a case his mind delves and delves until it finds a clue, then
something awakes within him, a spirit akin to that which holds
the bloodhound nose to trail, and he will accomplish the apparently
impossible, he will track down his victim when the entire machinery
of a great police department seems helpless to discover anything.
The high chiefs and commissioners grant a condescending permission
when Muller asks, "May I do this? ... or may I handle this case
this way?" both parties knowing all the while that it is a farce,
and that the department waits helpless until this humble little
man saves its honour by solving some problem before which its
intricate machinery has stood dazed and puzzled.