| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from United States Declaration of Independence: deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore,
acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them,
as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.
We, therefore, the Representatives of the United States of America,
in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of
the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name,
and by the Authority of the good People of these Colonies,
solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are,
and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States;
that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown,
and that all political connection between them and the State
United States Declaration of Independence |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Blix by Frank Norris: "break" of a salmon-trout. Up he went, from a brusque explosion
of ripples and foam--up into the gray of the morning from out the
gray of the water: scales all gleaming, hackles all a-bristle; a
sudden flash of silver, a sweep as of a scimitar in gray smoke,
with a splash, a turmoil, an abrupt burst of troubled sound that
stabbed through the silence of the morning, and in a single
instant dissipated all the placid calm of the previous hours.
"Keep the line taut," whispered Condy, gritting his teeth. "When
he comes toward you, reel him in; an' if he pulls too hard, give
him his head."
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Pocket Diary Found in the Snow by Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner: solitary man. He walked along, brooding over his troubles.
Scarcely an hour before he had been discharged from the factory
because of his refusal to submit to the injustice of his foreman.
The yellow light of the few lanterns show nothing but high board
walls and snow drifts, stone heaps, and now and then the remains
of a neglected garden. Here and there a stunted tree or a wild
shrub bent their twigs under the white burden which the winter had
laid upon them. Ludwig Amster, who had walked this street for
several years, knew his path so well that he could take it
blindfolded. The darkness did not worry him, but he walked somewhat
more slowly than usual, for he knew that under the thin covering of
|
