|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Tour Through Eastern Counties of England by Daniel Defoe:
chiefly in bills, and take orders: These they say exceed by far the
sales of goods actually brought to the fair, and delivered in kind;
it being frequent for the London wholesale men to carry back orders
from their dealers for ten thousand pounds' worth of goods a man,
and some much more. This especially respects those people, who
deal in heavy goods, as wholesale grocers, salters, brasiers, iron-
merchants, wine-merchants, and the like; but does not exclude the
dealers in woollen manufactures, and especially in mercery goods of
all sorts, the dealers in which generally manage their business in
Here are clothiers from Halifax, Leeds, Wakefield and Huddersfield
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Master and Man by Leo Tolstoy:
Vasili Andreevich counted, 'and here in front is the forest,'
thought he, as he looked at something dark in front of him.
But what had seemed to him a forest was only a bush. They
passed the bush and drove on for another hundred yards but
there was no fourth way-mark nor any forest.
'We must reach the forest soon,' thought Vasili Andreevich, and
animated by the vodka and the tea he did not stop but shook the
reins, and the good obedient horse responded, now ambling, now
slowly trotting in the direction in which he was sent, though
he knew that he was not going the right way. Ten minutes went
by, but there was still no forest.
Master and Man
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from My Bondage and My Freedom by Frederick Douglass:
They are food for the cotton-field and the deadly sugar-mill.
Mark the sad procession as it moves wearily along, and the
inhuman wretch who drives them. Hear his savage yells and his
blood-chilling oaths, as he hurries on his affrighted captives.
There, see the old man, with locks thinned and gray. Cast one
glance, if you please, upon that young mother, whose shoulders
are bare to the scorching sun, her briny tears falling on the
brow of the babe in her arms. See, too, that girl of thirteen,
weeping, yes, weeping, as she thinks of the mother from whom she
has been torn. The drove moves tardily. Heat and sorrow have
nearly consumed their strength. Suddenly you hear a quick snap,
My Bondage and My Freedom