| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving: reins on the other side, and kicked lustily with the contrary
foot: it was all in vain; his steed started, it is true, but it
was only to plunge to the opposite side of the road into a
thicket of brambles and alder-bushes. The schoolmaster now
bestowed both whip and heel upon the starveling ribs of old
Gunpowder, who dashed forward, snuffling and snorting, but came
to a stand just by the bridge, with a suddenness that had nearly
sent his rider sprawling over his head. Just at this moment a
plashy tramp by the side of the bridge caught the sensitive ear
of Ichabod. In the dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of the
brook, he beheld something huge, misshapen and towering. It
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Polity of Athenians and Lacedaemonians by Xenophon: warriors in the strife of valour, and with like result. They also, in
their degree, might be expected to attain to some unknown height of
manly virtue.
[1] See "Hell." V. iv. 32.
[2] Cf. "Cyrop." II. i. 22.
[3] Or, "pit face to face."
What method he adopted to engage these combatants I will now explain.
It is on this wise. Their ephors select three men out of the whole
body of the citizens in the prime of life. These three are named
Hippagretai, or masters of the horse. Each of these selects one
hundred others, being bound to explain for what reason he prefers in
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Lily of the Valley by Honore de Balzac: grass-green banks, by the lines of the poplars adorning with their
mobile laces that vale of love, by the oak-woods coming down between
the vineyards to the shore, which the river curved and rounded as it
chose, and by those dim varying horizons as they fled confusedly away.
If you would see nature beautiful and virgin as a bride, go there of a
spring morning. If you would still the bleeding wounds of your heart,
return in the last days of autumn. In the spring, Love beats his wings
beneath the broad blue sky; in the autumn, we think of those who are
no more. The lungs diseased breathe in a blessed purity; the eyes will
rest on golden copses which impart to the soul their peaceful
stillness. At this moment, when I stood there for the first time, the
The Lily of the Valley |
