| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Frankenstein by Mary Shelley: wretchedness of my desolated home; the reality came on me as a new,
and a not less terrible, disaster. I tried to calm Ernest; I enquired
more minutely concerning my father, and her I named my cousin.
"She most of all," said Ernest, "requires consolation; she accused
herself of having caused the death of my brother, and that made her
very wretched. But since the murderer has been discovered--"
"The murderer discovered! Good God! how can that be? who could
attempt to pursue him? It is impossible; one might as well try to
overtake the winds, or confine a mountain-stream with a straw.
I saw him too; he was free last night!"
"I do not know what you mean," replied my brother, in accents of wonder,
Frankenstein |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Second Inaugural Address by Abraham Lincoln: Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by
the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil
shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn by the lash
shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said
three thousand years ago, so still it must be said, "The
judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether."
With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in
the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on
to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds;
to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow,
and his orphan--to do all which may achieve and cherish a just
Second Inaugural Address |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Children of the Night by Edwin Arlington Robinson: To-morrow. To-morrow! My God! am I crying?
Are these things tears? Tears! What! am I frightened?
I, who swore I should go to the scaffold
With big strong steps, and -- No more. I thank you,
But no -- I am all right now! No! -- listen!
I am here to be hanged; to be hanged to-morrow
At six o'clock, when the sun is rising.
And why am I here? Not a soul can tell you
But this poor shivering thing before you,
This fluttering wreck of the man God made him,
For God knows what wild reason. Hear me,
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