| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin by Benjamin Franklin: guard was to avoid every the least offence against Temperance,
leaving the other virtues to their ordinary chance, only marking
every evening the faults of the day. Thus, if in the first week
I could keep my first line, marked T, clear of spots, I suppos'd
the habit of that virtue so much strengthen'd and its opposite
weaken'd, that I might venture extending my attention to include
the next, and for the following week keep both lines clear of spots.
Proceeding thus to the last, I could go thro' a course compleat
in thirteen weeks, and four courses in a year. And like him who,
having a garden to weed, does not attempt to eradicate all the bad
herbs at once, which would exceed his reach and his strength, but works
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from On the Duty of Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau: governed by policy and expediency. Webster never goes behind
government, and so cannot speak with authority about it.
His words are wisdom to those legislators who contemplate no
essential reform in the existing government; but for thinkers,
and those who legislate for all tim, he never once glances
at the subject. I know of those whose serene and wise
speculations on this theme would soon reveal the limits
of his mind's range and hospitality. Yet, compared with
the cheap professions of most reformers, and the still
cheaper wisdom an eloquence of politicians in general,
his are almost the only sensible and valuable words,
On the Duty of Civil Disobedience |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Lock and Key Library by Julian Hawthorne, Ed.: his lips closely together, and turned to me with eager questioning
in his eyes. I pointed in answer tremblingly at the drawer which I
had seen open the night before. He drew it out, and there on its
satin bed lay the dagger in its silver sheath. Still without a
word he took it up, and reaching his right hand round me, for I
could not now have stood had he withdrawn his support, with a swift
strong jerk he unsheathed the blade. There in the clear autumn
sunshine I could see the same dull stains I had marked in the
flickering candle-light, and over them, still ruddy and moist, were
the drops of my own half-dried blood. I grasped the lapel of his
coat with both my hands, and clung to him like a child in terror,
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