The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Caesar's Commentaries in Latin by Julius Caesar: demisso terram intueri. Eius rei quae causa esset miratus ex ipsis
quaesiit. Nihil Sequani respondere, sed in eadem tristitia taciti
permanere. Cum ab his saepius quaereret neque ullam omnino vocem
exprimere posset, idem Diviacus Haeduus respondit: hoc esse miseriorem et
graviorem fortunam Sequanorum quam reliquorum, quod soli ne in occulto
quidem queri neque auxilium implorare auderent absentisque Ariovisti
crudelitatem, velut si cora adesset, horrerent, propterea quod reliquis
tamen fugae facultas daretur, Sequanis vero, qui intra fines suos
Ariovistum recepissent, quorum oppida omnia in potestate eius essent,
omnes cruciatus essent perferendi.
His rebus cognitis Caesar Gallorum animos verbis confirmavit
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Lin McLean by Owen Wister: length of limb and recklessness, breaking horses and feeling for an early
mustache. Next, when the mustache was nearly accomplished, he had mended
the boy's badly broken thigh at Drybone. His skill (and Lin's utter
health) had wrought so swift a healing that the surgeon overflowed with
the pride of science, and over the bandages would explain the human body
technically to his wild-eyed and flattered patient. Thus young Lin heard
all about tibia, and comminuted, and other glorious new words, and when
sleepless would rehearse them. Then, with the bone so nearly knit that
the patient might leave the ward on crutches to sit each morning in
Barker's room as a privilege, the disobedient child of twenty-one had
slipped out of the hospital and hobbled hastily to the hog ranch, where
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas: enabled him to pronounce. Still, let it not be supposed that
amid this affected resignation to the will of Providence,
the unfortunate inn-keeper did not writhe under the double
misery of seeing the hateful canal carry off his customers
and his profits, and the daily infliction of his peevish
partner's murmurs and lamentations.
Like other dwellers in the south, he was a man of sober
habits and moderate desires, but fond of external show,
vain, and addicted to display. During the days of his
prosperity, not a festivity took place without himself and
wife being among the spectators. He dressed in the
 The Count of Monte Cristo |