| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Case of The Lamp That Went Out by Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner: it once more as if to memorise the words. They were as follows:
"Do not come again. In a day or two I will be able to do what I
have to do. I will send you later news to your office. Impatience
will not help you." - These words were written hastily on a piece
of paper that looked as if it had been torn from a pad. In spite
of the haste the writer had been at some pains to disguise the
handwriting. But it was a clumsy disguise, done by one not
accustomed to such tricks, and it was evidently done by a woman.
All she had known how to do to disguise her writing had been to
twist and turn the paper while writing, so that every letter had
a different position. The letters were also made unusually long.
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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: Betty."
"His life must be lonely and sad," remarked Joe.
"The life of any borderman is that; but Wetzel's is particularly so."
"What is he called by the Indians?"
"They call him Atelang, or, in English, Deathwind."
"By George! That's what Silvertip said in French--'Le Vent de la Mort.'"
"Yes; you have it right. A French fur trader gave Wetzel that name years ago,
and it has clung to him. The Indians say the Deathwind blows through the
forest whenever Wetzel stalks on their trail."
"Colonel Zane, don't you think me superstitious," whispered Joe, leaning
toward the colonel, "but I heard that wind blow through the forest."
The Spirit of the Border |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Give Me Liberty Or Give Me Death by Patrick Henry: we have been so long contending--if we mean not basely to abandon the noble
struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged
ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest
shall be obtained--we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight!
An appeal to arms and to the God of hosts is all that is left us!
They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable
an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week,
or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British
guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength but
irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance
by lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until
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