| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Dream Life and Real Life by Olive Schreiner: tree grew, whose palm-like leaves were clearly cut out against the night
sky. The rocks cast a deep shadow, and the willow trees, on either side of
the river. She paused, looked up and about her, and then ran on, fearful.
"What was I afraid of? How foolish I have been!" she said, when she came
to a place where the trees were not so close together. And she stood still
and looked back and shivered.
At last her steps grew wearier and wearier. She was very sleepy now, she
could scarcely lift her feet. She stepped out of the river-bed. She only
saw that the rocks about her were wild, as though many little kopjes had
been broken up and strewn upon the ground, lay down at the foot of an aloe,
and fell asleep.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Allan Poe: inverted images of the grey sedge, and the ghastly tree-stems,
and the vacant and eye-like windows.
Nevertheless, in this mansion of gloom I now proposed to
myself a sojourn of some weeks. Its proprietor, Roderick Usher,
had been one of my boon companions in boyhood; but many years had
elapsed since our last meeting. A letter, however, had lately
reached me in a distant part of the country--a letter from him--
which, in its wildly importunate nature, had admitted of no other
than a personal reply. The MS gave evidence of nervous
agitation. The writer spoke of acute bodily illness--of a mental
disorder which oppressed him--and of an earnest desire to see me,
 The Fall of the House of Usher |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson: driving sharp in my face or running down my back in icy trickles;
the mist enfolding us like as in a gloomy chamber -- or, perhaps,
if the wind blew, falling suddenly apart and showing us the gulf
of some dark valley where the streams were crying aloud.
The sound of an infinite number of rivers came up from all round.
In this steady rain the springs of the mountain were broken up;
every glen gushed water like a cistern; every stream was in high
spate, and had filled and overflowed its channel. During our
night tramps, it was solemn to hear the voice of them below in
the valleys, now booming like thunder, now with an angry cry. I
could well understand the story of the Water Kelpie, that demon
 Kidnapped |