| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Profits of Religion by Upton Sinclair: thorough study of both these industrial systems, and I freely
admit that there is one respect in which the lot of the wage
slave is better than that of the chattel slave. The wage slave is
free to think; and by squeezing a few drops of blood from his
starving body, he may possess himself of machinery for the
distribution of his ideas. Taking his chances of the policeman's
club and the jail, he may found revolutionary organizations, and
so he has the candle of hope to light him to his death-bed. But
excepting this consideration, and taking the circumstances of the
wage slave from the material point of view alone, I hold it
beyond question that the average lot of the chattel slave of 1860
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Soul of a Bishop by H. G. Wells: Scrope felt a sudden shyness. But he wanted Dale's drug again
so badly that he obliged himself to describe his previous
experiences to the best of his ability.
"It was," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, "a golden,
transparent liquid. Very golden, like a warm-tinted Chablis. When
water was added it became streaked and opalescent, with a kind of
living quiver in it. I held it up to the light."
"Yes? And when you took it?"
"I felt suddenly clearer. My mind--I had a kind of exaltation
and assurance."
"Your mind," Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey assisted, "began to go
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Ursula by Honore de Balzac: "Ursula, my dear little good angel, if you do not love him why did you
put that little red dot against Saint Savinien's day just as you put
one before that of Saint Denis? Come, tell me everything about your
little love-affair."
Ursula blushed, swallowed a few tears, and for a moment there was
silence between them.
"Surely you are not afraid of your father, your friend, mother,
doctor, and godfather, whose heart is now more tender than it ever has
been."
"No, no, dear godfather," she said. "I will open my heart to you. Last
May, Monsieur Savinien came to see his mother. Until then I had never
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