|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Daisy Miller by Henry James:
her in that beautiful abode of flowering desolation known as the
Palace of the Caesars. The early Roman spring had filled the air
with bloom and perfume, and the rugged surface of the Palatine
was muffled with tender verdure. Daisy was strolling along
the top of one of those great mounds of ruin that are embanked
with mossy marble and paved with monumental inscriptions.
It seemed to him that Rome had never been so lovely as just then.
He stood, looking off at the enchanting harmony of line and color
that remotely encircles the city, inhaling the softly humid odors,
and feeling the freshness of the year and the antiquity
of the place reaffirm themselves in mysterious interfusion.
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Gods of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs:
their allotted combats, and a swarm of determined warriors
sped to our support.
The great apes, towering in all their fifteen feet of height,
had gone down before my sword while the charging guards
were still some distance away. Close behind them pursued
the youth. At my back were the young girls, and as it
was in their service that I fought, I remained standing
there to meet my inevitable death, but with the determination
to give such an account of myself as would long be remembered
in the land of the First Born.
I noted the marvellous speed of the young red man as
The Gods of Mars
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Treatise on Parents and Children by George Bernard Shaw:
which child imprisonment and compulsory schooling is carried out to
the final extremity of the university degree knows that its scholastic
culture is a sham; that it knows little about literature or art and a
great deal about point-to-point races; and that the village cobbler,
who has never read a page of Plato, and is admittedly a dangerously
ignorant man politically, is nevertheless a Socrates compared to the
classically educated gentlemen who discuss politics in country houses
at election time (and at no other time) after their day's earnest and
skilful shooting. Think of the years and years of weary torment the
women of the piano-possessing class have been forced to spend over the
keyboard, fingering scales. How many of them could be bribed to