| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin by Benjamin Franklin: and saw with pain the inhabitants wading in mud while purchasing
their provisions. A strip of ground down the middle of that
market was at length pav'd with brick, so that, being once
in the market, they had firm footing, but were often over shoes
in dirt to get there. By talking and writing on the subject,
I was at length instrumental in getting the street pav'd with stone
between the market and the brick'd foot-pavement, that was on each
side next the houses. This, for some time, gave an easy access
to the market dry-shod; but, the rest of the street not being
pav'd, whenever a carriage came out of the mud upon this pavement,
it shook off and left its dirt upon it, and it was soon cover'd
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Spirit of the Border by Zane Grey: "Ah, my lad, I know Wetzel goes alone in the woods; but then, he is different
from other men. Before you leave I will tell you all about him.".
Colonel Zane went around the comer of the cabin and returned with a live coal
on a chip of wood, which Joe placed in the bowl of his pipe, and because of
the strong breeze stepped close to the cabin wall. Being a keen observer, he
noticed many small, round holes in the logs. They were so near together that
the timbers had an odd, speckled appearance, and there was hardly a place
where he could have put his thumb without covering a hole. At first he thought
they were made by a worm or bird peculiar to that region; but finally lie
concluded that they were bullet-holes. He thrust his knife blade into one, and
out rolled a leaden ball.
The Spirit of the Border |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Death of the Lion by Henry James: should have to take leave of him - have to go and lie down and keep
quiet. His young friend might be trusted to answer for him, but he
hoped Mr. Morrow didn't expect great things even of his young
friend. His young friend, at this moment, looked at Neil Paraday
with an anxious eye, greatly wondering if he were doomed to be ill
again; but Paraday's own kind face met his question reassuringly,
seemed to say in a glance intelligible enough: "Oh I'm not ill,
but I'm scared: get him out of the house as quietly as possible."
Getting newspaper-men out of the house was odd business for an
emissary of Mr. Pinhorn, and I was so exhilarated by the idea of it
that I called after him as he left us: "Read the article in THE
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