|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Second Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling:
of hard ground and grass changed to the muffled drum of water on
soft earth. That told its own tale.
Never a villager--not even the priest--was bold enough to speak
to the Bhagat who had saved their lives. They crouched under the
pines and waited till the day. When it came they looked across
the valley and saw that what had been forest, and terraced
field, and track-threaded grazing-ground was one raw, red,
fan-shaped smear, with a few trees flung head-down on the scarp.
That red ran high up the hill of their refuge, damming back the
little river, which had begun to spread into a brick-coloured
lake. Of the village, of the road to the shrine, of the shrine
The Second Jungle Book
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Phaedrus by Plato:
passes down into the interior of the heavens and returns home; and there
the charioteer putting up his horses at the stall, gives them ambrosia to
eat and nectar to drink.
Such is the life of the gods; but of other souls, that which follows God
best and is likest to him lifts the head of the charioteer into the outer
world, and is carried round in the revolution, troubled indeed by the
steeds, and with difficulty beholding true being; while another only rises
and falls, and sees, and again fails to see by reason of the unruliness of
the steeds. The rest of the souls are also longing after the upper world
and they all follow, but not being strong enough they are carried round
below the surface, plunging, treading on one another, each striving to be
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Works of Samuel Johnson by Samuel Johnson:
more than we can imagine, and that the most artful
fiction must give way to truth.
I am, Sir, Your humble servant,
No. 95. TUESDAY, OCTOBER 2, 1753
----Dulcique animos novitate tenebo. OVID. Met. iv. 284.
And with sweet novelty your soul detain.
IT is often charged upon writers, that with all their
pretensions to genius and discoveries, they do little
more than copy one another; and that compositions
obtruded upon the world with the pomp of novelty,