| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Don Quixote by Miquel de Cervantes: nothing lost by trying it; consider how much thou wouldst have,
Sancho, and whip thyself at once, and pay thyself down with thine
own hand, as thou hast money of mine."
At this proposal Sancho opened his eyes and his ears a palm's
breadth wide, and in his heart very readily acquiesced in whipping
himself, and said he to his master, "Very well then, senor, I'll
hold myself in readiness to gratify your worship's wishes if I'm to
profit by it; for the love of my wife and children forces me to seem
grasping. Let your worship say how much you will pay me for each
lash I give myself."
"If Sancho," replied Don Quixote, "I were to requite thee as the
Don Quixote |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Tom Sawyer, Detective by Mark Twain: of being accessionary after the fact to the murder."
The lawyer for the prostitution jumps up all excited,
and says:
"Your honor! I protest against this extraordi--"
"Set down!" says the judge, pulling his bowie and laying
it on his pulpit. "I beg you to respect the Court."
So he done it. Then he called Bill Withers.
BILL WITHERS, sworn, said: "I was coming along about
sundown, Saturday, September 2d, by the prisoner's field,
and my brother Jack was with me and we seen a man toting
off something heavy on his back and allowed it was a nigger
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Deserted Woman by Honore de Balzac: when, for his misfortune, his idol inspires him with awe, he worships
in secret and afar, and unless his love is guessed, it dies away. Then
it often happens that one of these dead early loves lingers on, bright
with illusions in many a young heart. What man is there but keeps
within him these virgin memories that grow fairer every time they rise
before him, memories that hold up to him the ideal of perfect bliss?
Such recollections are like children who die in the flower of
childhood, before their parents have known anything of them but their
smiles.
So M. de Nueil came home from Courcelles, the victim of a mood fraught
with desperate resolutions. Even now he felt that Mme. de Beauseant
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