|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Essays of Travel by Robert Louis Stevenson:
drunk, and asked me jeeringly if this was the way to Dunure. I told
them it was; and my answer was received with unfeigned merriment.
One gentleman was so much tickled he nearly fell out of the cart;
indeed, he was only saved by a companion, who either had not so fine
a sense of humour or had drunken less.
'The toune of Mayboll,' says the inimitable Abercrummie, 'stands upon
an ascending ground from east to west, and lyes open to the south.
It hath one principals street, with houses upon both sides, built of
freestone; and it is beautifyed with the situation of two castles,
one at each end of this street. That on the east belongs to the Erle
of Cassilis. On the west end is a castle, which belonged sometime to
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Fanny Herself by Edna Ferber:
certain form and rugged beauty. It has about it a gracious
breadth. As you turn into it from the crash and thunder of
Wabash there comes to you a sense of peace. That's the
sweep of it, and the lake just beyond, for Michigan avenue
is a one-side street. It's west side is a sheer mountain
wall of office buildings, clubs, and hotels, whose ground
floors are fascinating with specialty shops. A milliner
tantalizes the passer-by with a single hat stuck knowingly
on a carved stick. An art store shows two etchings, and a
vase. A jeweler's window holds square blobs of emeralds, on
velvet, and perhaps a gold mesh bag, sprawling limp and
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Lysis by Plato:
hinder us as far as they can; and not only strangers, but father and
mother, and the friend, if there be one, who is dearer still, will also
hinder us; and we shall be subject to others; and these things will not be
ours, for we shall not be benefited by them. Do you agree?
And shall we be friends to others, and will any others love us, in as far
as we are useless to them?
Neither can your father or mother love you, nor can anybody love anybody
else, in so far as they are useless to them?