| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Hated Son by Honore de Balzac: hatched," he said, coldly, hiding the infant.
Surprised to hear no cries, he examined the child, thinking it dead.
The count, seeing the deception, sprang upon him with one bound.
"God of heaven! will you give it to me?" he cried, snatching the
hapless victim which uttered feeble cries.
"Take care; the child is deformed and almost lifeless; it is a seven
months' child," said Beauvouloir clinging to the count's arm. Then,
with a strength given to him by the excitement of his pity, he clung
to the father's fingers, whispering in a broken voice: "Spare yourself
a crime, the child cannot live."
"Wretch!" replied the count, from whose hands the bonesetter had
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Gettysburg Address by Abraham Lincoln: But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate. . .we cannot consecrate. . .
we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead,
who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power
to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember,
what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.
It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished
work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.
It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining
before us. . .that from these honored dead we take increased devotion
to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion. . .
that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain. . .
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Apology by Plato: happened by mere chance. But I see clearly that the time had arrived when
it was better for me to die and be released from trouble; wherefore the
oracle gave no sign. For which reason, also, I am not angry with my
condemners, or with my accusers; they have done me no harm, although they
did not mean to do me any good; and for this I may gently blame them.
Still I have a favour to ask of them. When my sons are grown up, I would
ask you, O my friends, to punish them; and I would have you trouble them,
as I have troubled you, if they seem to care about riches, or anything,
more than about virtue; or if they pretend to be something when they are
really nothing,--then reprove them, as I have reproved you, for not caring
about that for which they ought to care, and thinking that they are
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