| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells: When I had last seen this part of Sheen in the daylight
it had been a straggling street of comfortable white and
red houses, interspersed with abundant shady trees. Now
I stood on a mound of smashed brickwork, clay, and gravel,
over which spread a multitude of red cactus-shaped plants,
knee-high, without a solitary terrestrial growth to dispute
their footing. The trees near me were dead and brown, but
further a network of red thread scaled the still living stems.
The neighbouring houses had all been wrecked, but none
had been burned; their walls stood, sometimes to the second
story, with smashed windows and shattered doors. The red
War of the Worlds |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Proposed Roads To Freedom by Bertrand Russell: edge of the Internationalism which undoubtedly is
part of the teachings of Marx. The workers, he
says, have a Fatherland as soon as they become
citizens, and on this basis he defends that degree of
nationalism which the war has since shown to be
prevalent in the ranks of Socialists. He even goes
so far as to maintain that European nations have a
right to tropical territory owing to their higher
civilization. Such doctrines diminish revolutionary
ardor and tend to transform Socialists into a left
wing of the Liberal Party. But the increasing prosperity
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Beast in the Jungle by Henry James: "Precisely," Marcher interposed--"quite as if it were too delicate
a matter for us to make free with. Quite as if we might find, on
pressure, that I AM afraid. For then," he said, "we shouldn't,
should we? quite know what to do."
She had for the time no answer to this question. "There have been
days when I thought you were. Only, of course," she added, "there
have been days when we have thought almost anything."
"Everything. Oh!" Marcher softly groaned, as with a gasp, half
spent, at the face, more uncovered just then than it had been for a
long while, of the imagination always with them. It had always had
it's incalculable moments of glaring out, quite as with the very
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