| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Case of the Golden Bullet by Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner: impossible, he will track down his victim when the entire machinery
of a great police department seems helpless to discover anything.
The high chiefs and commissioners grant a condescending permission
when Muller asks, "May I do this? ... or may I handle this case
this way?" both parties knowing all the while that it is a farce,
and that the department waits helpless until this humble little
man saves its honour by solving some problem before which its
intricate machinery has stood dazed and puzzled.
This call of the trail is something that is stronger than anything
else in Muller's mentality, and now and then it brings him into
conflict with the department, ... or with his own better nature.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Child of Storm by H. Rider Haggard: the vultures."
At this rough suggestion Umbezi's fat face fell.
"O Macumazana," he said, "if I thought that, I would go over to
Cetewayo, although Saduko is my son-in-law. But it is not possible,
since the King loves Umbelazi's mother most of all his wives, and, as I
chance to know, has sworn to her that he favours Umbelazi's cause, since
he is the dearest to him of all his sons, and will do everything that he
can to help him, even to the sending of his own regiment to his
assistance, if there should be need. Also, it is said that Zikali,
Opener-of-Roads, who has all wisdom, has prophesied that Umbelazi will
win more than he ever hoped for."
Child of Storm |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Idylls of the King by Alfred Tennyson: Stood, while he muttered, `Craven crests! O shame!
What faith have these in whom they sware to love?
The glory of our Round Table is no more.'
So Tristram won, and Lancelot gave, the gems,
Not speaking other word than `Hast thou won?
Art thou the purest, brother? See, the hand
Wherewith thou takest this, is red!' to whom
Tristram, half plagued by Lancelot's languorous mood,
Made answer, `Ay, but wherefore toss me this
Like a dry bone cast to some hungry hound?
Lest be thy fair Queen's fantasy. Strength of heart
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