|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court by Mark Twain:
rags as we could find, and started away, fastening the
door behind us. Their home must be these people's
grave, for they could not have Christian burial, or be
admitted to consecrated ground. They were as dogs,
wild beasts, lepers, and no soul that valued its hope of
eternal life would throw it away by meddling in any
sort with these rebuked and smitten outcasts.
We had not moved four steps when I caught a sound
as of footsteps upon gravel. My heart flew to my
throat. We must not be seen coming from that house.
I plucked at the king's robe and we drew back and
A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Lost Continent by Edgar Rice Burroughs:
We spent several hours in the village, where we were objects
of the greatest curiosity. The inhabitants examined our
clothing and all our belongings, and asked innumerable
questions concerning the strange country from which we had
come and the manner of our coming.
I questioned many of them concerning past historical events,
but they knew nothing beyond the narrow limits of their
island and the savage, primitive life they led there.
London they had never heard of, and they assured me that I
would find no human beings upon the mainland.
Much saddened by what I had seen, I took my departure from
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Exiles by Honore de Balzac:
soft as he spoke in Italian.
"What is that you say?" asked the old man.
"The /Bianchi/ are triumphant."
"Are you not mistaken?" asked the poet.
"No, dear Dante!" replied the soldier, whose warlike tones rang with
the thrill of battle and the exultation of victory.
"To Florence! To Florence! Ah, my Florence!" cried Dante Alighieri,
drawing himself up, and gazing into the distance. In fancy he saw
Italy; he was gigantic.
"But I--when shall I be in Heaven?" said Godefroid, kneeling on one
knee before the immortal poet, like an angel before the sanctuary.