| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from King Henry VI by William Shakespeare: Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland?
Look, York; I stain'd this napkin with the blood
That valiant Clifford with his rapier's point
Made issue from the bosom of the boy,
And, if thine eyes can water for his death,
I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.
Alas, poor York! but that I hate thee deadly
I should lament thy miserable state.
I prithee, grieve to make me merry, York;
Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance.
What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from War and the Future by H. G. Wells: though that met every question we have to face. Or they will
make a sort of admonitory forecast that is conditional upon the
good behaviour of other people. "Unless the Trade Unions are
more reasonable," they will say. Or, "Unless the shipping
interest is grappled with and controlled." Or, "Unless England
wakes up." And with that they seem to wash their hands of further
responsibility for the future.
One delightful form of put-off is the sage remark, "Let us finish
the war first, and then let us ask what is going to happen after
it." One likes to think of the beautiful blank day after the
signing of the peace when these wise minds swing round to pick up
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Merry Men by Robert Louis Stevenson: an' Mr. Soulis kenned that, live or die, this was the end o't.
'Witch, beldame, devil!' he cried, 'I charge you, by the power of
God, begone - if you be dead, to the grave - if you be damned, to
hell.'
An' at that moment the Lord's ain hand out o' the Heevens struck
the Horror whaur it stood; the auld, deid, desecrated corp o' the
witch-wife, sae lang keepit frae the grave and hirsled round by
deils, lowed up like a brunstane spunk and fell in ashes to the
grund; the thunder followed, peal on dirling peal, the rairing rain
upon the back o' that; and Mr. Soulis lowped through the garden
hedge, and ran, wi' skelloch upon skelloch, for the clachan.
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