|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Vailima Prayers & Sabbath Morn by Robert Louis Stevenson:
be happy, if happiness shall be our portion - and if the day be
marked for sorrow, strong to endure it.
We thank Thee and praise Thee; and in the words of him to whom this
day is sacred, close our oblation.
LORD, enlighten us to see the beam that is in our own eye, and
blind us to the mote that is in our brother's. Let us feel our
offences with our hands, make them great and bright before us like
the sun, make us eat them and drink them for our diet. Blind us to
the offences of our beloved, cleanse them from our memories, take
them out of our mouths for ever. Let all here before Thee carry
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Market-Place by Harold Frederic:
He stood still regarding the gateway, mentally summarizing
the events of the day, after the other had vanished.
At last, nestling his chin comfortably into the fur of
his collar, he smiled with self-satisfaction. "After all,"
he said to himself, "there are always ways of making a cad
feel that he is a cad, in the presence of a gentleman."
ON a Sunday afternoon, early in February, Thorpe journeyed
with his niece and nephew from Bern to Montreux.
The young people, with maps and a guide-book open,
sat close together at the left side of the compartment.
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf:
the Lighthouse beam entered the rooms for a moment, sent its sudden
stare over bed and wall in the darkness of winter, looked with
equanimity at the thistle and the swallow, the rat and the straw.
Nothing now withstood them; nothing said no to them. Let the wind
blow; let the poppy seed itself and the carnation mate with the
cabbage. Let the swallow build in the drawing-room, and the thistle
thrust aside the tiles, and the butterfly sun itself on the faded
chintz of the arm-chairs. Let the broken glass and the china lie out
on the lawn and be tangled over with grass and wild berries.
For now had come that moment, that hesitation when dawn trembles and
night pauses, when if a feather alight in the scale it will be weighed
To the Lighthouse