| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Give Me Liberty Or Give Me Death by Patrick Henry: 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
our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak if we make
a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power.
The millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Rise and Fall of Cesar Birotteau by Honore de Balzac: would be to give the reason of marriages which are constantly looked
upon with surprise,--marriages between tall and beautiful women and
puny men, or between ugly little creatures and handsome men. Every man
who is cursed with some bodily infirmity, no matter what it is,--club-
feet, a halting-gait, a humped-back, excessive ugliness, claret stains
upon the cheek, Roguin's species of deformity, and other monstrosities
the result of causes beyond the control of the sufferer,--has but two
courses open to him: either he must make himself feared, or he must
practise the virtues of exquisite loving-kindness; he is not permitted
to float in the middle currents of average conduct which are habitual
to other men. If he takes the first course he probably has talent,
Rise and Fall of Cesar Birotteau |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Letters of Two Brides by Honore de Balzac: bright. In short, I am a very pretty green fruit, with all the charm
of unripeness. I see a great likeness to the face in my aunt's old
missal, which rises out of a violet lily.
There is no silly weakness in the blue of my insolent eyes; the white
is pure mother-of-pearl, prettily marked with tiny veins, and the
thick, long lashes fall like a silken fringe. My forehead sparkles,
and the hair grows deliciously; it ripples into waves of pale gold,
growing browner towards the centre, whence escape little rebel locks,
which alone would tell that my fairness is not of the insipid and
hysterical type. I am a tropical blonde, with plenty of blood in my
veins, a blonde more apt to strike than to turn the cheek. What do you
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