|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson by Robert Louis Stevenson:
Molokai, hearing native causes, and giving my opinion as AMICUS
CURIAE as to the interpretation of a statute in English; a lovely
week among God's best - at least God's sweetest works -
Polynesians. It has bettered me greatly. If I could only stay
there the time that remains, I could get my work done and be happy;
but the care of my family keeps me in vile Honolulu, where I am
always out of sorts, amidst heat and cold and cesspools and beastly
HAOLES. What is a haole? You are one; and so, I am sorry to say,
am I. After so long a dose of whites, it was a blessing to get
among Polynesians again even for a week.
Well, Charles, there are waur haoles than yoursel', I'll say that
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Rig Veda:
Accept for thy delight the proffered Soma meath: drink from
Kindler's bowl and fill thee with thy share.
5 This is the strengthener of thy body's manly might: strength,
victory for all time are placed within thine arms.
Pressed for thee, Maghavan, it is offered unto thee: drink
chalice of this Brahman, drink thy fill.
6 Accept the sacrifice; mark both of you, my call: the Priest
seated him after the ancient texts.
The Rig Veda
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Poems of William Blake by William Blake:
With milk and oil I never knew, and therefore did I weep,
And I complaind in the mild air, because I fade away.
And lay me down in thy cold bed, and leave my shining lot.
Queen of the vales, the matron Clay answered: I heard thy sighs.
And all thy moans flew o'er my roof, but I have call'd them down:
Wilt thou O Queen enter my house, tis given thee to enter,
And to return: fear nothing, enter with thy virgin feet.
The eternal gates terrific porter lifted the northern bar:
Thel enter'd in & saw the secrets of the land unknown;
She saw the couches of the dead, & where the fibrous roots
Poems of William Blake