| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Spirit of the Border by Zane Grey: country, and believed some warriors, belated on a hunting trip, had sought the
cabin for shelter.
The hunter lay perfectly quiet, awaiting developments. If the Indians had
flint and steel, and struck a light, he was almost certain to be discovered.
He listened to their low conversation, and understood from the language that
they were Delawares.
A moment later he heard the rustling of leaves and twigs, accompanied by the
metallic click of steel against some hard substance. The noise was repeated,
and then followed by a hissing sound, which he knew to be the burning of a
powder on a piece of dry wood, after which rays of light filtered through
cracks of the unstable floor of the loft.
The Spirit of the Border |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson by Robert Louis Stevenson: our low spirits and all our distresses, that it looks like a kind
of lamplit fairyland behind me. O for ten Edinburgh minutes -
sixpence between us, and the ever-glorious Lothian Road, or dear
mysterious Leith Walk! But here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom
Bowling; here in this strange place, whose very strangeness would
have been heaven to him then; and aspires, yes, C. B., with tears,
after the past. See what comes of being left alone. Do you
remember Brash? the sheet of glass that we followed along George
Street? Granton? the blight at Bonny mainhead? the compass near
the sign of the TWINKLING EYE? the night I lay on the pavement in
misery?
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Mosses From An Old Manse by Nathaniel Hawthorne: prepare to lay the mark of baptism upon their foreheads, that
they might be partakers of the mystery of sin, more conscious of
the secret guilt of others, both in deed and thought, than they
could now be of their own. The husband cast one look at his pale
wife, and Faith at him. What polluted wretches would the next
glance show them to each other, shuddering alike at what they
disclosed and what they saw!
"Faith! Faith!" cried the husband, "look up to heaven, and resist
the wicked one."
Whether Faith obeyed he knew not. Hardly had he spoken when he
found himself amid calm night and solitude, listening to a roar
Mosses From An Old Manse |
