| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Lin McLean by Owen Wister: me eat dinner."
But Lin had hot water and cold water and salt, and was an hour upon his
knees bathing the hot feet. And then Billy could not eat dinner!
There was a doctor in Golden; but in spite of his light prescription and
most reasonable observations, Mr. McLean passed a foolish night of vigil,
while Billy slept, quite well at first, and, as the hours passed, better
and better. In the morning he was entirely brisk, though stiff.
"I couldn't work quick to-day," he said. "But I guess one day won't lose
me my trade."
"How d' yu' mean?" asked Lin.
"Why, I've got regulars, you know. Sidney Ellis an' Pete Goode has
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Mosses From An Old Manse by Nathaniel Hawthorne: intercourse with the neighboring settlers. The results of these
were innumerable lawsuits; for the people of New England, in the
earliest stages and wildest circumstances of the country,
adopted, whenever attainable, the legal mode of deciding their
differences. To be brief, the world did not go well with Reuben
Bourne; and, though not till many years after his marriage, he
was finally a ruined man, with but one remaining expedient
against the evil fate that had pursued him. He was to throw
sunlight into some deep recess of the forest, and seek
subsistence from the virgin bosom of the wilderness.
The only child of Reuben and Dorcas was a son, now arrived at the
Mosses From An Old Manse |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from From London to Land's End by Daniel Defoe: run on shore there; by which she was, however, saved from
shipwreck, and the lives of her crew were saved also.
This was a melancholy morning indeed. Nothing was to be seen but
wrecks of the ships and a foaming, furious sea in that very place
where they rode all in joy and triumph but the evening before. The
captains, passengers, and officers who were, as I have said, gone
on shore, between the joy of saving their lives, and the affliction
of having lost their ships, their cargoes, and their friends, were
objects indeed worth our compassion and observation. And there was
a great variety of the passions to be observed in them--now
lamenting their losses, their giving thanks for their deliverance.
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