|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Pierrette by Honore de Balzac:
retail shopkeepers. The petty dealer acquires the faculty of uttering
words and sentences in which there is absolutely no meaning, but which
have a marked success. He explains to his customers matters of
manufacture that they know nothing of; that alone gives him a passing
superiority over them; but take him away from his thousand and one
explanations about his thousand and one articles, and he is,
relatively to thought, like a fish out of water in the sun.
Rogron and Sylvie, two mechanisms baptized by mistake, did not
possess, latent or active, the feelings which give life to the heart.
Their natures were shrivelled and harsh, hardened by toil, by
privation, by the remembrance of their sufferings during a long and
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Son of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs:
The stranger smiled. "He deserves killing?" he said. "There is
no doubt of that. Once I should have killed him; but not now.
I will see, though, that he does not bother you any more."
He was holding Malbihn in a grasp the giant Swede could not
break, though he struggled to do so, and he was holding him as
easily as Malbihn might have held a little child, yet Malbihn was
a huge man, mightily thewed. The Swede began to rage and curse.
He struck at his captor, only to be twisted about and held at
arm's length. Then he shouted to his boys to come and kill
the stranger. In response a dozen strange blacks entered the tent.
They, too, were powerful, clean-limbed men, not at all like the
The Son of Tarzan
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Flame and Shadow by Sara Teasdale:
A running tide where moonlight burned
Will not sting me like silver snakes;
The years will make me sad and cold,
It is the happy heart that breaks.
The heart asks more than life can give,
When that is learned, then all is learned;
The waves break fold on jewelled fold,
But beauty itself is fugitive,
It will not hurt me when I am old.
A diamond of a morning