| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Tapestried Chamber by Walter Scott: morning.
The company assembled for breakfast at an early hour, but without
the appearance of General Browne, who seemed the guest that Lord
Woodville was desirous of honouring above all whom his
hospitality had assembled around him. He more than once
expressed surprise at the General's absence, and at length sent a
servant to make inquiry after him. The man brought back
information that General Browne had been walking abroad since an
early hour of the morning, in defiance of the weather, which was
misty and ungenial.
"The custom of a soldier," said the young nobleman to his
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Reason Discourse by Rene Descartes: time begun to hold my own opinions for nought because I wished to subject
them all to examination, I was convinced that I could not do better than
follow in the meantime the opinions of the most judicious; and although
there are some perhaps among the Persians and Chinese as judicious as
among ourselves, expediency seemed to dictate that I should regulate my
practice conformably to the opinions of those with whom I should have to
live; and it appeared to me that, in order to ascertain the real opinions
of such, I ought rather to take cognizance of what they practised than of
what they said, not only because, in the corruption of our manners, there
are few disposed to speak exactly as they believe, but also because very
many are not aware of what it is that they really believe; for, as the act
Reason Discourse |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Poems of William Blake by William Blake: Of every heart on earth infixes deep its restless twists:
A land of sorrows & of tears where never smile was seen.
She wandered in the land of clouds thro' valleys dark, listning
Dolors & lamentations: waiting oft beside the dewy grave
She stood in silence, listning to the voices of the ground,
Till to her own grave plot she came, & there she sat down.
And heard this voice of sorrow breathed from the hollow pit.
Why cannot the Ear be closed to its own destruction?
Or the glistening Eye to the poison of a smile!
Why are Eyelids stord with arrows ready drawn,
Where a thousand fighting men in ambush lie!
Poems of William Blake |
