| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Sons of the Soil by Honore de Balzac: Monsieur Blondet, appointed prefect in one of the departments, was
celebrated in Paris. On their way to take possession of the
prefecture, they followed the road which led past what had formerly
been Les Aigues. They stopped the carriage near the spot where the two
pavilions had once stood, wishing to see the places so full of tender
memories for each. The country was no longer recognizable. The
mysterious woods, the park avenues, all were cleared away; the
landscape looked like a tailor's pattern-card. The sons of the soil
had taken possession of the earth as victors and conquerors. It was
cut up into a thousand little lots, and the population had tripled
between Conches and Blangy. The levelling and cultivation of the noble
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Boys' Life of Abraham Lincoln by Helen Nicolay: military cloak. There was, of course, not a word of truth in the
absurd tale. The rest of the party followed Mr. Lincoln at the
time originally planned. They saw great crowds in the streets of
Baltimore, but there was now no occasion for violence.
In the week that passed between his arrival and the day of his
inauguration Mr. Lincoln exchanged the customary visits of
ceremony with President Buchanan, his cabinet, the Supreme Court,
the two houses of Congress, and other dignitaries.
Careful preparations for the inauguration had been made under the
personal direction of General Scott, who held the small military
force in the city ready instantly to suppress any attempt to
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Allan Quatermain by H. Rider Haggard: At last it came, and I have not often been more grateful to
see the light, though so far as my canoe was concerned it revealed
a ghastly sight. There in the bottom of the little boat lay
the unfortunate Askari, the sime, or sword, in his bosom, and
the severed hand gripping the handle. I could not bear the sight,
so hauling up the stone which had served as an anchor to the
other canoe, we made it fast to the murdered man and dropped
him overboard, and down he went to the bottom, leaving nothing
but a train of bubbles behind him. Alas! when our time comes,
most of us like him leave nothing but bubbles behind, to show
that we have been, and the bubbles soon burst. The hand of his
Allan Quatermain |
