|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Madam How and Lady Why by Charles Kingsley:
ash, holly and thorn, with here and there an aspen or a buckthorn
(berry-bearing alder as you call it), and everywhere--where he
could thrust down his long root, and thrust up his long shoots--
that intruding conqueror and insolent tyrant, the bramble. There
were sedges and rushes, too, in the bogs, and coarse grass on the
forest pastures--or "leas" as we call them to this day round here-
-but no real green fields; and, I suspect, very few gay flowers,
save in spring the sheets of golden gorse, and in summer the
purple heather. Such was old England--or rather, such was this
land before it was England; a far sadder, damper, poorer land than
now. For one man or one cow or sheep which could have lived on it
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Gods of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs:
to listen closely for my commands, and under no circumstances
to venture into the open, or leave the pits for the temple
proper until I should have come up with him, "or you know
that I died before I could reach you."
The officer saluted and left me. The men filed rapidly past
me and entered the diverging corridor which I hoped would
lead to safety. The water rose breast high. Men stumbled,
floundered, and went down. Many I grasped and set upon
their feet again, but alone the work was greater than I could
cope with. Soldiers were being swept beneath the boiling
torrent, never to rise. At length the dwar of the 10th utan
The Gods of Mars
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Gettysburg Address by Abraham Lincoln:
can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war.
We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place
for those who here gave their lives that this nation might live.
It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate. . .we cannot consecrate. . .
we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead,
who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power
to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember,
what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.
It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished
work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.