| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Adam Bede by George Eliot: enough to detain Dinah another night from the Hall Farm, now she
had made up her mind to leave her aunt so soon, and at evening the
friends must part. "For a long while," Dinah had said, for she
had told Lisbeth of her resolve.
"Then it'll be for all my life, an' I shall ne'er see thee again,"
said Lisbeth. "Long while! I'n got no long while t' live. An' I
shall be took bad an' die, an' thee canst ne'er come a-nigh me,
an' I shall die a-longing for thee."
That had been the key-note of her wailing talk all day; for Adam
was not in the house, and so she put no restraint on her
complaining. She had tried poor Dinah by returning again and
Adam Bede |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Common Sense by Thomas Paine: But let our imaginations transport us far a few moments to Boston,
that seat of wretchedness will teach us wisdom, and instruct us
for ever to renounce a power in whom we can have no trust.
The inhabitants of that unfortunate city, who but a few months ago
were in ease and affluence, have now, no other alternative than
to stay and starve, or turn and beg. Endangered by the fire
of their friends if they continue within the city, and plundered
by the soldiery if they leave it. In their present condition
they are prisoners without the hope of redemption, and in
a general attack for their relief, they would be exposed
to the fury of both armies.
Common Sense |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Elixir of Life by Honore de Balzac: scoffed, must repose nightly upon a PERHAPS. The great Duke, the
pattern of good breeding, the champion of many a carouse, the
proud ornament of Courts, the man of genius, the graceful winner
of hearts that he had wrung as carelessly as a peasant twists an
osier withe, was now the victim of a cough, of a ruthless
sciatica, of an unmannerly gout. His teeth gradually deserted
him, as at the end of an evening the fairest and best-dressed
women take their leave one by one till the room is left empty and
desolate. The active hands became palsy-stricken, the shapely
legs tottered as he walked. At last, one night, a stroke of
apoplexy caught him by the throat in its icy clutch. After that
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