| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from An Inland Voyage by Robert Louis Stevenson: wish you could have seen how gracefully and merrily she did it.
The young woman's milk-can, a great amphora of hammered brass,
stood some way off upon the sward. I was glad of an opportunity to
divert public attention from myself, and return some of the
compliments I had received. So I admired it cordially both for
form and colour, telling them, and very truly, that it was as
beautiful as gold. They were not surprised. The things were
plainly the boast of the countryside. And the children expatiated
on the costliness of these amphorae, which sell sometimes as high
as thirty francs apiece; told me how they were carried on donkeys,
one on either side of the saddle, a brave caparison in themselves;
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Jungle by Upton Sinclair: When at last the time came for her to get out, she asked for the transfer,
and was refused. Not knowing what to make of this, she began to argue
with the conductor, in a language of which he did not understand a word.
After warning her several times, he pulled the bell and the car went
on--at which Ona burst into tears. At the next corner she got out,
of course; and as she had no more money, she had to walk the rest of
the way to the yards in the pouring rain. And so all day long she sat
shivering, and came home at night with her teeth chattering and pains
in her head and back. For two weeks afterward she suffered cruelly--
and yet every day she had to drag herself to her work. The forewoman was
especially severe with Ona, because she believed that she was obstinate
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Story of an African Farm by Olive Schreiner: He comes to a real person, copper-coloured face, head a little on one side,
forehead knit, asking questions. Believe me, it were better to be followed
by three deadly diseases than by him. He is never silenced--without mercy.
Though the drops of blood stand out on your heart he will put his question.
Softly he comes up (we are only a wee bit child); "Is it good of God to
make hell? Was it kind of Him to let no one be forgiven unless Jesus
Christ died?"
Then he goes off, and leaves us writhing. Presently he comes back.
"Do you love Him?"--waits a little. "Do you love Him? You will be lost if
you don't."
We say we try to.
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