| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Road to Oz by L. Frank Baum: hanging out one side of his mouth, and looked up into her face with
his bright brown eyes, as if asking her what they should do next.
Dorothy didn't know. She looked around her anxiously for some
familiar landmark; but everything was strange. Between the branches
of the many roads were green meadows and a few shrubs and trees, but
she couldn't see anywhere the farm-house from which she had just come,
or anything she had ever seen before--except the shaggy man and Toto.
Besides this, she had turned around and around so many times trying to
find out where she was, that now she couldn't even tell which
direction the farm-house ought to be in; and this began to worry her
and make her feel anxious.
The Road to Oz |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Across The Plains by Robert Louis Stevenson: There were meals to be had, however, by the wayside: a breakfast
in the morning, a dinner somewhere between eleven and two, and
supper from five to eight or nine at night. We had rarely less
than twenty minutes for each; and if we had not spent many another
twenty minutes waiting for some express upon a side track among
miles of desert, we might have taken an hour to each repast and
arrived at San Francisco up to time. For haste is not the foible
of an emigrant train. It gets through on sufferance, running the
gauntlet among its more considerable brethren; should there be a
block, it is unhesitatingly sacrificed; and they cannot, in
consequence, predict the length of the passage within a day or so.
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Merry Men by Robert Louis Stevenson: hearty in my life without you: you are the apple of my eye.' Still
she looked away, and said never a word; but I thought I saw that
her hands shook. 'Mary,' I cried in fear, 'do ye no like me?'
'O, Charlie man,' she said, 'is this a time to speak of it? Let me
be, a while; let me be the way I am; it'll not be you that loses by
the waiting!'
I made out by her voice that she was nearly weeping, and this put
me out of any thought but to compose her. 'Mary Ellen,' I said,
'say no more; I did not come to trouble you: your way shall be
mine, and your time too; and you have told me all I wanted. Only
just this one thing more: what ails you?'
|
