| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Secret Agent by Joseph Conrad: artists, politicians, thinkers, reformers, or saints. A despicable
emotional state this, against which solitude fortifies a superior
character; and with severe exultation the Professor thought of the
refuge of his room, with its padlocked cupboard, lost in a
wilderness of poor houses, the hermitage of the perfect anarchist.
In order to reach sooner the point where he could take his omnibus,
he turned brusquely out of the populous street into a narrow and
dusky alley paved with flagstones. On one side the low brick
houses had in their dusty windows the sightless, moribund look of
incurable decay - empty shells awaiting demolition. From the other
side life had not departed wholly as yet. Facing the only gas-lamp
The Secret Agent |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Twilight Land by Howard Pyle: with us, for haven't we studied seven long years together?" And
so for a while they were as happy as happy could be.
But by-and-by a flock of second thoughts began to buzz in the
heads of John and Jacob Stuck. "Why," said they, "as for that, to
be sure, a chest of silver money is a great thing for three
students to find who had nothing better than book-learning to
help them along; but who knows but that there is something better
even than silver money out in the wide world?" So, after all, and
in spite of the chest of silver money they had found, the two of
them were for going on to try their fortunes a little farther.
And as for Joseph, why, after all, when he came to think of it,
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Captain Stormfield by Mark Twain: postman delivering letters, or a policeman walking his beat, in
plain clothes. But they ain't to FLY with! The wings are for
show, not for use. Old experienced angels are like officers of the
regular army - they dress plain, when they are off duty. New
angels are like the militia - never shed the uniform - always
fluttering and floundering around in their wings, butting people
down, flapping here, and there, and everywhere, always imagining
they are attracting the admiring eye - well, they just think they
are the very most important people in heaven. And when you see one
of them come sailing around with one wing tipped up and t'other
down, you make up your mind he is saying to himself: 'I wish Mary
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