| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Ozma of Oz by L. Frank Baum: throughout the valley and seemed to grow louder as they advanced.
Then, turning a corner of rock, they saw before them a huge form,
which towered above the path for more than a hundred feet. The form
was that of a gigantic man built out of plates of cast iron, and it
stood with one foot on either side of the narrow road and swung over
its right shoulder an immense iron mallet, with which it constantly
pounded the earth. These resounding blows explained the thumping
sounds they had heard, for the mallet was much bigger than a barrel,
and where it struck the path between the rocky sides of the mountain
it filled all the space through which our travelers would be obliged
to pass.
Ozma of Oz |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Russia in 1919 by Arthur Ransome: no very hopeful spirit, the possibilities of this last Note to all
the Allies having any serious result. He estimated the
opposing tendencies for and against war with Russia in each
of the principal countries concerned. The growth of
revolutionary feeling abroad made imperialistic governments
even more aggressive towards the Workers' and Peasants'
Republic than they would otherwise be. It was now making
their intervention difficult, but no more. It was impossible to
say that the collapse of Imperialism had gone so far that it
had lost its teeth. Chicherin speaks as if he were a dead man
or a ventriloquist's lay figure. And indeed he is half-dead.
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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: ventured, "I suppose it was water."
But Mrs. Stubbs fixed Alice with her eyes and replied meaningly, "It was
liquid, my dear."
Liquid! Alice jumped away from the word like a cat and came back to it,
nosing and wary.
"That's 'im!" said Mrs. Stubbs, and she pointed dramatically to the life-
size head and shoulders of a burly man with a dead white rose in the
buttonhole of his coat that made you think of a curl of cold mutting fat.
Just below, in silver letters on a red cardboard ground, were the words,
"Be not afraid, it is I."
"It's ever such a fine face," said Alice faintly.
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