|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Weir of Hermiston by Robert Louis Stevenson:
make a public toilet before entering! It was perhaps an air wafted from
Glasgow; or perhaps it marked a stage of that dizziness of gratified
vanity, in which the instinctive act passed unperceived. He was looking
after! She unloaded her bosom of a prodigious sigh that was all
pleasure, and betook herself to run. When she had overtaken the
stragglers of her family, she caught up the niece whom she had so
recently repulsed, and kissed and slapped her, and drove her away again,
and ran after her with pretty cries and laughter. Perhaps she thought
the laird might still be looking! But it chanced the little scene came
under the view of eyes less favourable; for she overtook Mrs. Hob
marching with Clem and Dand.
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Aeroplanes and Dirigibles of War by Frederick A. Talbot:
which total 150 were contributed from private sources. Even the
dirigible had not been overlooked, there being nearly 20 of these
craft attached to the Russian Army, although for the most part
they are small vessels.
In comparison with the foregoing large aerial navies, that of
Great Britain appeared to be puny. At the moment Great Britain
possesses about 500 machines, of which about 200 are waterplanes.
In addition, according to the Secretary of the Admiralty, 15
dirigibles should be in service. Private enterprise is supported
by the Government, which maintains a factory for the manufacture
of these craft.
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Helen of Troy And Other Poems by Sara Teasdale:
O lift me up and I shall reach the sun!
The twilight's inner flame grows blue and deep,
And in my Lesbos, over leagues of sea,
The temples glimmer moonwise in the trees.
Twilight has veiled the little flower face
Here on my heart, but still the night is kind
And leaves her warm sweet weight against my breast.
Am I that Sappho who would run at dusk
Along the surges creeping up the shore
When tides came in to ease the hungry beach,