| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from An Open Letter on Translating by Dr. Martin Luther: else. His words, as well, are blunt - "no works" - none at all!
If it is not works, it must be faith alone. Oh what a marvelous,
constructive and inoffensive teaching that would be, to be taught
that one can be saved by works as well as by faith. That would be
like saying that it is not Christ's death alone that takes away
our sin but that our works have something to do with it. Now that
would be a fine way of honoring Christ's death, saying that it is
helped by our works, and that whatever it does our works can also
do - that we are his equal in goodness and power. This is the
devil itself for he cannot ever stop abusing the blood of Christ.
Therefore the matter itself, at its very core, necessitates one
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Heritage of the Desert by Zane Grey: the yellow trail. Four stout posts guarded the opening, and a number of
bars lay ready to be pushed into place. He put them up, making a gate
ten feet high, an impregnable barrier. This done, he hurried back to
camp.
"Jack, Bolly will need more watching to-day than the sheep, unless I let
her loose. Why, she pulls and strains so she'll break that halter."
"She wants to go with the band; isn't that it?"
"I don't like to think so. But Father Naab doesn't trust Bolly, though
she's the best mustang he ever broke."
"Better keep her in," replied Jack, remembering Naab's warning. "I'll
hobble her, so if she does break loose she can't go far."
The Heritage of the Desert |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Roads of Destiny by O. Henry: derby, he rapidly extended it at arm's length, and drew it back with a
continuous motion, and shouted a loud, but ceremonious, "Ah, there!"
after the flying surrey.
The sudden movement of the girl had caused one of the parcels to
become unwrapped, and something limp and black fell from it into the
road. The tramp picked it up, and found it to be a new black silk
stocking, long and fine and slender. It crunched crisply, and yet with
a luxurious softness, between his fingers.
"Ther bloomin' little skeezicks!" said Whistling Dick, with a broad
grin bisecting his freckled face. "W't d' yer think of dat, now!
Mer-ry Chris-mus! Sounded like a cuckoo clock, da'ts what she did. Dem
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