| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Hermione's Little Group of Serious Thinkers by Don Marquis: Only opposition!
And from a child I have had such a high-strung,
sensitive nervous organization that opposition of
any sort has made me ill.
There are some temperaments like that.
Once when I was quite small and Mamma threat-
ened to spank me, I had convulsions.
And nothing but opposition, opposition, oppo-
sition now!
Only we advanced thinkers know what it is to
suffer! To go through fire for our ideals!
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from She Stoops to Conquer by Oliver Goldsmith: HASTINGS. My dear friend, how have you managed with your mother? I
hope you have amused her with pretending love for your cousin, and that
you are willing to be reconciled at last? Our horses will be refreshed
in a short time, and we shall soon be ready to set off.
TONY. And here's something to bear your charges by the way (giving the
casket); your sweetheart's jewels. Keep them: and hang those, I say,
that would rob you of one of them.
HASTINGS. But how have you procured them from your mother?
TONY. Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no fibs. I procured them
by the rule of thumb. If I had not a key to every drawer in mother's
bureau, how could I go to the alehouse so often as I do? An honest man
She Stoops to Conquer |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The House of Dust by Conrad Aiken: Along her veins they glisten and ring and burn. . . .
He hears his own slow steps tread down to silence.
Far off they pass. He knows they will never return.
Far off--on a smooth dark road--he hears them faintly.
The road, like a sombre river, quietly flowing,
Moves among murmurous walls. A deeper breath
Swells them to sound: he hears his steps more clearly.
And death seems nearer to him: or he to death.
What's death?--She smiles. The cool stone hurts her elbows.
The last of the rain-drops gather and fall from elm-boughs,
She sees them glisten and break. The arc-lamp sings,
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