| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Democracy In America, Volume 1 by Alexis de Toqueville: America. I had perceived from many different results the
preponderance of the whites. But in the picture which I have
just been describing there was something peculiarly touching; a
bond of affection here united the oppressors with the oppressed,
and the effort of nature to bring them together rendered still
more striking the immense distance placed between them by
prejudice and by law.
The Present And Probable Future Condition Of The Indian Tribes
Which Inhabit The Territory Possessed By The Union
Gradual disappearance of the native tribes - Manner in which it
takes place -Miseries accompanying the forced migrations of the
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Desert Gold by Zane Grey: as if he had never been lost in the desert. He slid to a halt, then
plunged and stamped. His rider leaped, throwing the bridle. Belding
saw a powerful, spare, ragged man, with dark, gaunt face and eyes
of flame.
Then Nell came running from the house, her golden hair flying, her
hands outstretched, her face wonderful.
"Dick! Dick! Oh-h-h, Dick!" she cried. Her voice seemed to quiver
in Belding's heart.
Belding's eyes began to blur. He was not sure he saw clearly.
Whose face was this now close before him--a long thin, shrunken
face, haggard, tragic in its semblance of torture, almost of
 Desert Gold |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Ballads by Robert Louis Stevenson: Higher the sun swam up; the trade wind level and strong
Awoke in the tops of the palms and rattled the fans aloud,
And over the garlanded heads and shining robes of the crowd
Tossed the spiders of shadow, scattered the jewels of sun.
Forty the tale of the drums, and the forty throbbed like one;
A thousand hearts in the crowd, and the even chorus of song,
Swift as the feet of a runner, trampled a thousand strong.
And the old men leered at the ovens and licked their lips for the food;
And the women stared at the lads, and laughed and looked to the wood.
As when the sweltering baker, at night, when the city is dead,
Alone in the trough of labour treads and fashions the bread;
 Ballads |