| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Poems of William Blake by William Blake: II.
O little Cloud the virgin said, I charge thee to tell me
Why thou complainest now when in one hour thou fade away:
Then we shall seek thee but not find: ah Thel is like to thee.
I pass away, yet I complain, and no one hears my voice.
The Cloud then shewd his golden head & his bright form emerg'd.
Hovering and glittering on the air before the face of Thel.
O virgin know'st thou not our steeds drink of the golden springs
Where Luvah doth renew his horses: lookst thou on my youth.
And fearest thou because I vanish and am seen no more.
Nothing remains; O maid I tell thee, when I pass away.
Poems of William Blake |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Tattine by Ruth Ogden [Mrs. Charles W. Ide]: die," and Tattine raised one plump little hand and gave Doctor a slap that at
least made him "turn tail," and slink rather doggedly away to his own
particular hole under the laundry steps. And now it was time to find Mamma--
high time, for it seemed to Tattine she would choke with all the feelings,
sorrowful and angry, welling up within her. Mamma was not far afield--that is,
she was very near, at her desk in the cosy little alcove of the upstairs
hall-way, and Tattine soon found her.
"Now, Mamma," she asked excitedly, "did you know that Betsy or Doctor would do
such a thing as this?"
The trembling little rabbit in Tattine's hands showed what was meant by THIS.
Mrs. Gerald paused a moment, then she said reluctantly, "Yes, Tattine, I did."
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Garden Party by Katherine Mansfield: Then they remembered. It didn't matter. They would never have to stop the
organ-grinder again. Never again would she and Constantia be told to make
that monkey take his noise somewhere else. Never would sound that loud,
strange bellow when father thought they were not hurrying enough. The
organ-grinder might play there all day and the stick would not thump.
"It never will thump again,
It never will thump again,
played the barrel-organ.
What was Constantia thinking? She had such a strange smile; she looked
different. She couldn't be going to cry.
"Jug, Jug," said Constantia softly, pressing her hands together. "Do you
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