| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Charmides and Other Poems by Oscar Wilde: For exile-wearied feet as mine to tread,
And O how salt and bitter is the bread
Which falls from this Hound's table, - better far
That I had died in the red ways of war,
Or that the gate of Florence bare my head,
Than to live thus, by all things comraded
Which seek the essence of my soul to mar.
'Curse God and die: what better hope than this?
He hath forgotten thee in all the bliss
Of his gold city, and eternal day' -
Nay peace: behind my prison's blinded bars
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Kidnapped Santa Claus by L. Frank Baum: the Pixie, and a small fairy named Wisk--his four favorite assistants.
These little people he had often found very useful in helping him to
distribute his gifts to the children, and when their master was so
suddenly dragged from the sleigh they were all snugly tucked
underneath the seat, where the sharp wind could not reach them.
The tiny immortals knew nothing of the capture of Santa Claus until
some time after he had disappeared. But finally they missed his
cheery voice, and as their master always sang or whistled on his
journeys, the silence warned them that something was wrong.
Little Wisk stuck out his head from underneath the seat and found
Santa Claus gone and no one to direct the flight of the reindeer.
A Kidnapped Santa Claus |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell: the town and bawdy houses were blossoming with women to the
consternation of the church people. Every hotel, boarding house
and private residence was crammed with visitors who had come to be
near wounded relatives in the big Atlanta hospitals. There were
parties and balls and bazaars every week and war weddings without
number, with the grooms on furlough in bright gray and gold braid
and the brides in blockade-run finery, aisles of crossed swords,
toasts drunk in blockaded champagne and tearful farewells.
Nightly the dark tree-lined streets resounded with dancing feet,
and from parlors tinkled pianos where soprano voices blended with
those of soldier guests in the pleasing melancholy of "The Bugles
Gone With the Wind |
