| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The People That Time Forgot by Edgar Rice Burroughs: questioned me; but it was evident that they did not believe my
story, for they scoffed and laughed.
"The Galus have turned you out," they cried. "If you go back
to them, you will die. If you remain here, you will die.
We shall kill you; but first we shall have a dance and you
shall dance with us--the dance of death."
It sounded quite reassuring! But I knew that I was not to be
killed immediately, and so I took heart. They led me toward
the cliffs, and as we approached them, I glanced up and was
sure that I saw Ajor's bright eyes peering down upon us from
our lofty cave; but she gave no sign if she saw me; and we
The People That Time Forgot |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Iron Puddler by James J. Davis: a reckoning. They were lucky to escape with their lives, their
cooties and their appetites. Instead of financing me, I had to
finance them again. They finally got cleaned up and we all went
back to Birmingham, where the strike was over.
"Show us that spieler," they said, "who told us the wage system
was the worst kind of slavery. If daily wages is slavery, God
grant that they never set us free again."
CHAPTER XXIX
A SICK, EMACIATED SOCIAL SYSTEM
The hard times I have been describing were in the early
nineties. The year before there had been a financial crash.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Familiar Studies of Men and Books by Robert Louis Stevenson: (for it seems he was already too feeble to control the pen):
"You ask particularly after my health. I SUPPOSE that I have
not many months to live, but of course know nothing about it.
I may say that I am enjoying existence as much as ever, and
regret nothing." It is not given to all to bear so clear a
testimony to the sweetness of their fate, nor to any without
courage and wisdom; for this world in itself is but a painful
and uneasy place of residence, and lasting happiness, at
least to the self-conscious, comes only from within. Now
Thoreau's content and ecstasy in living was, we may say, like
a plant that he had watered and tended with womanish
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