|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Magic of Oz by L. Frank Baum:
balls which looked like jewels but were intended for brains. It had a
heart made of blood-red ruby. The eyes were two large emeralds. But,
aside from these colors, all the rest of the animal was of clear
glass, and it had a spun-glass tail that was really beautiful.
"Here, wake up," said Cap'n Bill. "We want to talk to you."
Slowly the Glass Cat got upon its feed, yawned and then looked at
the three who stood before it.
"How dare you disturb me?" it asked in a peevish voice. "You ought
to be ashamed of yourselves."
"Never mind that," returned the Sailor. "Do you remember tellin' me
yesterday 'bout a Magic Flower in a Gold Pot?"
The Magic of Oz
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Peter Pan by James M. Barrie:
I can at least withdraw," and she sprang in the most dignified
way into bed and covered her face with the blankets.
To induce her to look up he pretended to be going away, and
when this failed he sat on the end of the bed and tapped her
gently with his foot. "Wendy," he said, "don't withdraw. I
can't help crowing, Wendy, when I'm pleased with myself." Still
she would not look up, though she was listening eagerly.
"Wendy," he continued, in a voice that no woman has ever yet been
able to resist, "Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys."
Now Wendy was every inch a woman, though there were not very
many inches, and she peeped out of the bed-clothes.
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Lone Star Ranger by Zane Grey:
drifting under a burden; darkness, light, sound, movement; and
vague, obscure sense of time--time that was very long. There
was fire--creeping, consuming fire. A dark cloud of flame
enveloped him, rolled him away.
He saw then, dimly, a room that was strange, strange people
moving about over him, with faint voices, far away, things in a
dream. He saw again, clearly, and consciousness returned, still
unreal, still strange, full of those vague and far-away things.
Then he was not dead. He lay stiff, like a stone, with a weight
ponderous as a mountain upon him and all his bound body racked
in slow, dull-beating agony.
The Lone Star Ranger