|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Tattine by Ruth Ogden [Mrs. Charles W. Ide]:
watch. Betsy, hearing the little cries, began at once to coax, giving little
sharp barks at regular intervals, and trying to make the hole larger with her
Tattine's ears, which were dear little shells of ears to look at, and very
sharp little ears to hear with, thought the cries sounded a little nearer, and
now a little nearer; then she was sure of it, and Betsy and she, both growing
more excited every minute, kept pushing each other away from the hole the
better to look into it, until at last two little beads of eyes glared out at
them, and then it was an easy thing for Tattine to reach in and draw out the
prettiest puppy of all.
"Why didn't you tell us there were five, Betsy, and save us all this extra
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Underground City by Jules Verne:
interrupted with fantastic effect by the sharp angles of the picturesque
rocks which supported the dome. This imperfect light suited Nell,
to whose eyes a glare was very unpleasant.
"Nell," said Harry, "your eyes are not fit for daylight yet,
and could not bear the brightness of the sun."
"Indeed they could not," replied the girl; "if the sun is such as you
describe it to me, Harry."
"I cannot by any words, Nell, give you an idea either of his splendor
or of the beauty of that universe which your eyes have never beheld.
But tell me, is it really possible that, since the day when you
were born in the depths of the coal mine, you never once have been
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Sanitary and Social Lectures by Charles Kingsley:
profligate, disgraceful fellow, who is not fit to be mentioned; I
intend to take him out of your hands and reform him myself."
Neither do the poor like such unceremonious mercy, such untender
tenderness, benevolence at horse-play, mistaking kicks for
caresses. They do not like it, they will not respond to it, save
in parishes which have been demoralised by officious and
indiscriminate benevolence, and where the last remaining virtues
of the poor, savage self-help and independence, have been
exchanged (as I have too often seen them exchanged) for organised
begging and hypocrisy.
I would that you would all read, ladies, and consider well the