| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Give Me Liberty Or Give Me Death by Patrick Henry: additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded;
and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne!
In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and
reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free--
if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which
we have been so long contending--if we mean not basely to abandon the noble
struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged
ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest
shall be obtained--we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight!
An appeal to arms and to the God of hosts is all that is left us!
They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Bride of Lammermoor by Walter Scott: an avant-courier should carry to the desinted seneschal, Caleb
Balderstone, the unexpected news of this invasion.
The Master of Ravenswood soon after accompanied the Marquis in
his carriage, as the latter had proposed; and when they became
better acquainted in the progress of the journey, his noble
relation explained the very liberal views which he entertained
for his relation's preferment, in case of the success of his own
political schemes. They related to a secret and highly important
commission beyond sea, which could only be entrusted to a person
of rank, talent, and perfect confidence, and which, as it
required great trust and reliance on the envoy employed, could
The Bride of Lammermoor |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Commission in Lunacy by Honore de Balzac: trousers, always threadbare, looked like camlet--the stuff of which
attorneys' gowns are made; and his habitual stoop set them, in time,
in such innumerable creases, that in places they were traced with
lines, whitish, rusty, or shiny, betraying either sordid avarice, or
the most unheeding poverty. His coarse worsted stockings were twisted
anyhow in his ill-shaped shoes. His linen had the tawny tinge acquired
by long sojourn in a wardrobe, showing that the late lamented Madame
Popinot had had a mania for much linen; in the Flemish fashion,
perhaps, she had given herself the trouble of a great wash no more
than twice a year. The old man's coat and waistcoat were in harmony
with his trousers, shoes, stockings, and linen. He always had the luck
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