| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Ursula by Honore de Balzac: kept Goupil as much through fear as for his keen mind and thorough
knowledge of all the interests of the town. But the master so
distrusted his clerk that he himself kept the accounts, refused to let
him live in his house, held him at arm's length, and never confided
any secret or delicate affair to his keeping. In return the clerk
fawned upon the notary, hiding his resentment at this conduct, and
watching Madame Dionis in the hope that he might get his revenge
there. Gifted with a ready mind and quick comprehension he found work
easy.
"You!" exclaimed the post master to the clerk, who stood rubbing his
hands, "making game of our misfortunes already?"
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Running a Thousand Miles for Freedom by William and Ellen Craft: got up, the gentleman assisted him in getting on
his cloak, the ladies took their shawls, and soon
they were all seated. They then insisted upon Mr.
Johnson taking some of their refreshments, which
of course he did, out of courtesy to the ladies.
All went on enjoying themselves until they reached
Richmond, where the ladies and their father left
the train. But, before doing so, the good old
Virginian gentleman, who appeared to be much
pleased with my master, presented him with a
recipe, which he said was a perfect cure for the
Running a Thousand Miles for Freedom |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Pool of Blood in the Pastor's Study by Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner: tremble but his thin face was pale - pale as that face which looked
up at him out of one of the coffins. The lid of the coffin stood
up against the wall and Muller saw that there were several other
empty ones further on, waiting for their silent occupants.
The body in the open coffin before which Muller stood was the body
of the man who had been missing since the day previous. He lay
there quite peacefully, his hands crossed over his breast, his eyes
closed, a line of pain about his lips. In the crossed fingers was
a little bunch of dark yellow roses. At the first glance one might
almost have thought that loving hands had laid the old pastor in his
coffin. But the red stain on the white cloth about his throat, and
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