| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Koran: And we have adorned the lower heaven with lamps; and set them to
pelt the devils with; and we have prepared for them the torment of the
blaze!
And for those who disbelieve in their Lord is the torment of hell,
and an evil journey shall it be!
When they shall be cast therein they shall hear its braying as it
boils--it will well-nigh burst for rage!
Whenever a troop of them is thrown in, its treasurers shall ask
them, 'Did not a warner come to you?'
They shall say, 'Yea! a warner came to us, and we called him liar,
and said, "God has not sent down aught; ye are but in great error!"'
 The Koran |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Roads of Destiny by O. Henry: right, and the hulking Captain went over in a swearing heap. Tansey
flew to Katie, and took her in his arms like a conquering knight. She
raised her face, and he kissed her--violets! electricity! caramels!
champagne! Here was the attainment of a dream that brought no
disenchantment.
"Oh, Sam," cried Katie, when she could, "I knew you would come to
rescue me. What do you suppose the mean things were going to do with
me?"
"Have your picture taken," said Tansey, wondering at the foolishness
of his remark.
"No, they were going to eat me. I heard them talking about it."
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Dream Life and Real Life by Olive Schreiner: flickers, and her present is an agony to me, and her future a despair, the
scent of that dead rose, withered for twelve years, comes back to me. I
know there will be spring; as surely as the birds know it when they see
above the snow two tiny, quivering green leaves. Spring cannot fail us.
There were other flowers in the box once; a bunch of white acacia flowers,
gathered by the strong hand of a man, as we passed down a village street on
a sultry afternoon, when it had rained, and the drops fell on us from the
leaves of the acacia trees. The flowers were damp; they made mildew marks
on the paper I folded them in. After many years I threw them away. There
is nothing of them left in the box now, but a faint, strong smell of dried
acacia, that recalls that sultry summer afternoon; but the rose is in the
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