|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Rape of Lucrece by William Shakespeare:
Thy father die, and not thy father thee!'
By this starts Collatine as from a dream,
And bids Lucretius give his sorrow place;
And then in key-cold Lucrece' bleeding stream
He falls, and bathes the pale fear in his face,
And counterfeits to die with her a space;
Till manly shame bids him possess his breath,
And live, to be revenged on her death.
The deep vexation of his inward soul
Hath serv'd a dumb arrest upon his tongue;
Who, mad that sorrow should his use control,
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Patchwork Girl of Oz by L. Frank Baum:
perhaps they will be glad to meet again. The
Magician is very busy, as I said, but if you will
promise not to disturb him you may come into his
workshop and watch him prepare a wonderful charm."
"Thank you," replied the boy, much pleased.
"I would like to do that."
She led the way to a great domed hall at the
back of the house, which was the Magician's
workshop. There was a row of windows extending
nearly around the sides of the circular room,
which rendered the place very light, and there was
The Patchwork Girl of Oz
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Betty Zane by Zane Grey:
Nothing was wanting in that dream picture: Betty tearing along on her pony;
the pioneer plowing in the field; the stealthy approach of the savage; Wetzel
and Jonathan watching the river; the deer browsing with the cows in the
pasture, and the old fort, grim and menacing on the bluff--all were there as
natural as in those times which tried men's souls.
And as the writer awoke to the realities of life, that his dreams were of long
ago, he was saddened by the thought that the labor of the pioneer is ended;
his faithful, heroic wife's work is done. That beautiful country, which their
sacrifices made ours, will ever be a monument to them.
Sad, too, is the thought that the poor Indian is unmourned. He is almost
forgotten; he is in the shadow; his songs are sung; no more will he sing to