| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from On the Origin of Species by Charles Darwin: naturally lead them to this conclusion. On the contrary, we have every
reason to believe, from the study of the tertiary formations, that species
and groups of species gradually disappear, one after another, first from
one spot, then from another, and finally from the world. Both single
species and whole groups of species last for very unequal periods; some
groups, as we have seen, having endured from the earliest known dawn of
life to the present day; some having disappeared before the close of the
palaeozoic period. No fixed law seems to determine the length of time
during which any single species or any single genus endures. There is
reason to believe that the complete extinction of the species of a group is
generally a slower process than their production: if the appearance and
On the Origin of Species |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Garden Party by Katherine Mansfield: our lives, Jug? It's quite excusable. Let's be weak--be weak, Jug. It's
much nicer to be weak than to be strong."
And then she did one of those amazingly bold things that she'd done about
twice before in their lives: she marched over to the wardrobe, turned the
key, and took it out of the lock. Took it out of the lock and held it up
to Josephine, showing Josephine by her extraordinary smile that she knew
what she'd done--she'd risked deliberately father being in there among his
overcoats.
If the huge wardrobe had lurched forward, had crashed down on Constantia,
Josephine wouldn't have been surprised. On the contrary, she would have
thought it the only suitable thing to happen. But nothing happened. Only
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Riders of the Purple Sage by Zane Grey: out across the valley to the curling column of blue smoke from
their campfire. But the cool shade and the rich grass and the
fine view were not what they had climbed for. They could not have
told, although whatever had drawn them was well-satisfying.
Light, sure-footed as a mountain goat, Bess pattered down at
Venters's heels; and they went on, calling the dogs, eyes dreamy
and wide, listening to the wind and the bees and the crickets and
the birds.
Part of the time Ring and Whitie led the way, then Venters, then
Bess; and the direction was not an object. They left the
sun-streaked shade of the oaks, brushed the long grass of the
Riders of the Purple Sage |
