| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Happy Prince and Other Tales by Oscar Wilde: And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the
thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the
Day will come before the rose is finished."
So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn
touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her.
Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song,
for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love
that dies not in the tomb.
And the marvellous rose became crimson, like the rose of the
eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a
ruby was the heart.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Maitre Cornelius by Honore de Balzac: "Ho, crony!" called out the king, "you have been finely robbed this
time."
At these words the old Fleming hurried out of his chamber, visibly
terrified. Louis XI. made him look at the foot-prints on the stairs
and corridors, and while examining them himself for the second time,
the king chanced to observe the miser's slippers and recognized the
type of sole that was printed in flour on the corridors. He said not a
word, and checked his laughter, remembering the innocent men who had
been hanged for the crime. The miser now hurried to his treasure. Once
in the room the king ordered him to make a new mark with his foot
beside those already existing, and easily convinced him that the
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The First Men In The Moon by H. G. Wells: turned about to look at Cavor.
He was leaping from side to side of the grating, making threatening jabs
with his broken spear. That was all right. It would keep the Selenites
down - for a time at any rate. I looked up the cavern again. What on earth
were we going to do now?
We were cornered in a sort of way already. But these butchers up the
cavern had been surprised, they were probably scared, and they had no
special weapons, only those little hatchets of theirs. And that way lay
escape. Their sturdy little forms - ever so much shorter and thicker than
the mooncalf herds - were scattered up the slope in a way that was
eloquent of indecision. I had the moral advantage of a mad bull in a
The First Men In The Moon |
