| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from La Grande Breteche by Honore de Balzac: frowned.
"Rosalie was going, and he called her back. 'Here, take my latch-key,'
said he.
" 'Jean!' Monsieur de Merret called in a voice of thunder down the
passage. Jean, who was both coachman and confidential servant, left
his cards and came.
" 'Go to bed, all of you,' said his master, beckoning him to come
close; and the gentleman added in a whisper, 'When they are all asleep
--mind, /asleep/--you understand?--come down and tell me.'
"Monsieur de Merret, who had never lost sight of his wife while giving
his orders, quietly came back to her at the fireside, and began to
La Grande Breteche |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Running a Thousand Miles for Freedom by William and Ellen Craft: self, and we went on board and came off to Wil-
mington, North Carolina. When the gentleman
finds out his mistake, he will, I have no doubt, be
careful in future not to pretend to have an intimate
acquaintance with an entire stranger. During the
voyage the captain said, "It was rather sharp
shooting this morning, Mr. Johnson. It was not
out of any disrespect to you, sir; but they make it
a rule to be very strict at Charleston. I have
known families to be detained there with their
slaves till reliable information could be received
Running a Thousand Miles for Freedom |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Ballads by Robert Louis Stevenson: Rua must die to-morrow, since Rua is gone to-day."
Out of the groves of the valley, where clear the blackbirds sang.
Sheer from the trees of the valley the face of the mountain sprang;
Sheer and bare it rose, unscalable barricade,
Beaten and blown against by the generous draught of the trade.
Dawn on its fluted brow painted rainbow light,
Close on its pinnacled crown trembled the stars at night.
Here and there in a cleft clustered contorted trees,
Or the silver beard of a stream hung and swung in the breeze.
High overhead, with a cry, the torrents leaped for the main,
And silently sprinkled below in thin perennial rain.
Ballads |
