| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from My Bondage and My Freedom by Frederick Douglass: ourselves. Long may they live, and may blessings attend them in
this life and in that which is to come!
Once initiated into the new life of freedom, and assured by Mr.
Johnson that New Bedford was a safe place, the comparatively
unimportant matter, as to what should be my name, came up for
considertion{sic}. It was necessary to have a name in my new
relations. The name given me by my beloved mother was no less
pretentious than "Frederick Augustus Washington Bailey." I had,
however, before leaving Maryland, dispensed with the _Augustus
Washington_, and retained the name _Frederick Bailey_. Between
Baltimore and New Bedford, however, I had several different
My Bondage and My Freedom |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Young Forester by Zane Grey: his arm. He knocked Buell clear across the room, and when the man fell I
thought the cabin was coming down in the crash. He appeared stunned, for he
groped about with his hands, found a chair, and, using it as a support,
rose to his feet, swaying unsteadily.
"Leslie, I'll get you for this--take it from me," he muttered.
Dick's lips were tight, and he watched Buell with flaming eyes. The
lumberman lurched out of the door, and we heard him cursing after he had
disappeared. Then Dick looked at me with no little disapproval.
"What did you say to make Buell wild like that?"
I told Dick, word for word. First he looked dumfounded, then angry, and he
ended up with a grim laugh.
The Young Forester |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Glaucus/The Wonders of the Shore by Charles Kingsley: hapless bivalve shells, whom he bores through with his sharp tongue
(always, cunning fellow, close to the hinge, where the fish is),
and then sucks out their life. Now, if the anemone stuck to him,
it would be carried under the sand daily, to its own disgust. It
prefers, therefore, the dead whelk, inhabited by a soldier crab,
Pagurus Bernhardi (Pl. II. Fig. 2), of which you may find a dozen
anywhere as the tide goes out; and travels about at the crab's
expense, sharing with him the offal which is his food. Note,
moreover, that the soldier crab is the most hasty and blundering of
marine animals, as active as a monkey, and as subject to panics as
a horse; wherefore the poor anemone on his back must have a hard
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