|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Black Beauty by Anna Sewell:
with Lady Anne's maid and help. I shall stay here."
"All right, sir, I'll do my best, and I pray God the dear young lady
may open her eyes soon." Then, seeing the other man, he called out,
"Here, Joe, run for some water, and tell my missis to come
as quick as she can to the Lady Anne."
He then somehow scrambled into the saddle, and with a "Gee up"
and a clap on my sides with both his legs, he started on his journey,
making a little circuit to avoid the dike. He had no whip,
which seemed to trouble him; but my pace soon cured that difficulty,
and he found the best thing he could do was to stick to the saddle
and hold me in, which he did manfully. I shook him as little
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from De Profundis by Oscar Wilde:
small can be ruined except by his own hand. I am quite ready to
say so. I am trying to say so, though they may not think it at the
present moment. This pitiless indictment I bring without pity
against myself. Terrible as was what the world did to me, what I
did to myself was far more terrible still.
I was a man who stood in symbolic relations to the art and culture
of my age. I had realised this for myself at the very dawn of my
manhood, and had forced my age to realise it afterwards. Few men
hold such a position in their own lifetime, and have it so
acknowledged. It is usually discerned, if discerned at all, by the
historian, or the critic, long after both the man and his age have
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Island of Doctor Moreau by H. G. Wells:
with the ghost of a lisp.
"What ship is this?" I said slowly, hoarse from my long silence.
"It's a little trader from Arica and Callao. I never asked
where she came from in the beginning,--out of the land
of born fools, I guess. I'm a passenger myself, from Arica.
The silly ass who owns her,--he's captain too, named Davies,--
he's lost his certificate, or something. You know the kind of man,--
calls the thing the `Ipecacuanha,' of all silly, infernal names;
though when there's much of a sea without any wind, she certainly
(Then the noise overhead began again, a snarling growl
The Island of Doctor Moreau