| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Blue Flower by Henry van Dyke: At the edge of the terrace he saw a little cairn of broken
bricks, and under them a piece of papyrus. He caught it up
and read: "We have waited past the midnight, and can delay no
longer. We go to find the King. Follow us across the desert."
Artaban sat down upon the ground and covered his head in
despair.
"How can I cross the desert," said he, "with no food and
with a spent horse? I must return to Babylon, sell my
sapphire, and buy a train of camels, and provision for the
journey. I may never overtake my friends. Only God the
merciful knows whether I shall not lose the sight of the King
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Flower Fables by Louisa May Alcott: Busily toiled the coral-workers, but more busily toiled he; insect
and Spirit daily wondered more and more, at the industry and patience
of the silent little Elf, who had a friendly word for all, though
he never joined them in their sport.
Higher and higher grew the coral-boughs, and lighter grew the Fairy's
heart, while thoughts of dear Lily-Bell cheered him on, as day by day
he steadily toiled; and when at length the sun shone on his work,
and it was done, he stayed but to take the garland he had won, and
to thank the good Spirits for their love and care. Then up through
the cold, blue waves he swiftly glided, and, shaking the bright drops
from his wings, soared singing up to the sunny sky.
Flower Fables |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from De Profundis by Oscar Wilde: and callous. But behind sorrow there is always sorrow. Pain,
unlike pleasure, wears no mask. Truth in art is not any
correspondence between the essential idea and the accidental
existence; it is not the resemblance of shape to shadow, or of the
form mirrored in the crystal to the form itself; it is no echo
coming from a hollow hill, any more than it is a silver well of
water in the valley that shows the moon to the moon and Narcissus
to Narcissus. Truth in art is the unity of a thing with itself:
the outward rendered expressive of the inward: the soul made
incarnate: the body instinct with spirit. For this reason there
is no truth comparable to sorrow. There are times when sorrow
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