| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge by Ambrose Bierce: will not be shot; that is not fair."
He was not conscious of an effort, but a sharp pain in his
wrist apprised him that he was trying to free his hands. He
gave the struggle his attention, as an idler might observe
the feat of a juggler, without interest in the outcome. What
splendid effort! -- what magnificent, what superhuman
strength! Ah, that was a fine endeavor! Bravo! The cord
fell away; his arms parted and floated upward, the hands
dimly seen on each side in the growing light. He watched
them with a new interest as first one and then the other
pounced upon the noose at his neck. They tore it away and
An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Lay Morals by Robert Louis Stevenson: was seen to issue, lantern in hand, from the tower door, and,
where the ruins did not intervene, to pick his way over the
swarded courtyard, avoiding treacherous cellars and winding
among blocks of fallen masonry. The arch of the great gate
was still entire, flanked by two tottering bastions, and it
was here that Jonathan met them, standing at the edge of the
bridge, bent somewhat forward, and blinking at them through
the glow of his own lantern. Mr. Archer greeted him with
civility; but the old man was in no humour of compliance. He
guided the new-comer across the court-yard, looking sharply
and quickly in his face, and grumbling all the time about the
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Dreams & Dust by Don Marquis: That range the outer wold,
We mock our own cold hearts because
They are so dead and cold;
We flout the things we might have been
Had self to self proved true,
We mock the roses flung away,
We mock the garnered rue;
The fates that gibe have lessoned us;
There sups to-night on earth
No madder crew of wastrels than
This fellowship of mirth. . . .
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