| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Gettysburg Address by Abraham Lincoln: to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember,
what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.
It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished
work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.
It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining
before us. . .that from these honored dead we take increased devotion
to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion. . .
that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain. . .
that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom. . .
and that government of the people. . .by the people. . .for the people. . .
shall not perish from this earth.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Glaucus/The Wonders of the Shore by Charles Kingsley: to haunt. Its weed-covered surface shows that the surge has not
shifted it for years past. It lies on other boulders clear of sand
and mud, so that there is no fear of dead sea-weed having lodged
and decayed under it, destructive to animal life. We can see dark
crannies and caves beneath; yet too narrow to allow the surge to
wash in, and keep the surface clean. It will be a fine menagerie
of Nereus, if we can but turn it.
Now the crowbar is well under it; heave, and with a will; and so,
after five minutes' tugging, propping, slipping, and splashing, the
boulder gradually tips over, and we rush greedily upon the spoil.
A muddy dripping surface it is, truly, full of cracks and hollows,
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Dawn O'Hara, The Girl Who Laughed by Edna Ferber: only a mild hysteria that made me say those most
unladylike things. I have written Norah all about it.
She has replied, advising me to stick to the good-fellow
role but not to dress the part. So when next you see me
I shall be a perfectly safe and sane comrade in
petticoats. And I promise you--no more outbursts."
So it happened that on the afternoon of New Year's
day Von Gerhard and I gravely wished one another many
happy and impossible things for the coming year, looking
fairly and squarely into each other's eyes as we did so.
"So," said Von Gerhard, as one who is satisfied. "The
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