|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Professor by Charlotte Bronte:
had once had the opportunity of contemplating, near at hand, an
example of the results produced by a course of interesting and
romantic domestic treachery. No golden halo of fiction was about
this example, I saw it bare and real, and it was very loathsome.
I saw a mind degraded by the practice of mean subterfuge, by the
habit of perfidious deception, and a body depraved by the
infectious influence of the vice-polluted soul. I had suffered
much from the forced and prolonged view of this spectacle; those
sufferings I did not now regret, for their simple recollection
acted as a most wholesome antidote to temptation. They had
inscribed on my reason the conviction that unlawful pleasure,
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz by L. Frank Baum:
"I am," replied the little man.
"Then you can do a few wizzes and get us out of this hole," declared
the tiny one, with much confidence.
"I could if I happened to be a real wizard," returned the master
sadly. "But I'm not, my piggy-wees; I'm a humbug wizard."
"Nonsense!" cried several of the piglets, together.
"You can ask Dorothy," said the little man, in an injured tone.
"It's true enough," returned the girl, earnestly. "Our friend Oz is
merely a humbug wizard, for he once proved it to me. He can do
several very wonderful things--if he knows how. But he can't wiz a
single thing if he hasn't the tools and machinery to work with."
Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from My Aunt Margaret's Mirror by Walter Scott:
alone in her chamber by a taper fixed in a candlestick which she
had had formed out of a human skull. One night this strange
piece of furniture acquired suddenly the power of locomotion,
and, after performing some odd circles on her chimney-piece,
fairly leaped on the floor, and continued to roll about the
apartment. Mrs. Swinton calmly proceeded to the adjoining room
for another light, and had the satisfaction to penetrate the
mystery on the spot. Rats abounded in the ancient building she
inhabited, and one of these had managed to ensconce itself within
her favourite MEMENTO MORI. Though thus endowed with a more than
feminine share of nerve, she entertained largely that belief in