| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Kidnapped Santa Claus by L. Frank Baum: cannot visit the children again for another year."
"That is true," answered Santa Claus, almost cheerfully;
"Christmas Eve is past, and for the first time in centuries
I have not visited my children."
"The little ones will be greatly disappointed," murmured the Daemon of
Repentance, almost regretfully; "but that cannot be helped now. Their
grief is likely to make the children selfish and envious and hateful,
and if they come to the Caves of the Daemons today I shall get a
chance to lead some of them to my Cave of Repentance."
"Do you never repent, yourself?" asked Santa Claus, curiously.
"Oh, yes, indeed," answered the Daemon. "I am even now repenting that
A Kidnapped Santa Claus |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte by Karl Marx: the democratic small traders' class, just as a year before it had
understood the necessity of putting an end to the revolutionary
proletariat.
But the position of the foe had changed. The strength of the
proletarian party was on the streets ; that of the small traders' class
was in the National Assembly itself. The point was, accordingly, to
wheedle them out of the National Assembly into the street, and to have
them break their parliamentary power themselves, before I time and
opportunity could consolidate them. The Mountain jumped with loose
reins into the trap.
The bombardment of Rome by the French troops was the bait thrown at the
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Lucile by Owen Meredith: XXIV.
"Will you suffer me, lady, your thoughts to invade
By disclosing my own? The position," he said,
"In which we so strangely seem placed may excuse
The frankness and force of the words which I use.
You say that your heart is your husband's: You say
That you love him. You think so, of course, lady . . . nay,
Such a love, I admit, were a merit, no doubt.
But, trust me, no true love there can be without
Its dread penalty--jealousy.
"Well, do not start!
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