| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Astoria by Washington Irving: their aptness to hurry them off and conceal them, in case of an
alarm. This was no time to risk such a disappointment.
Approaching, therefore, stealthily and silently, they came upon
the savages by surprise, who fled in terror. Five of their horses
were eagerly seized, and one was despatched upon the spot. The
carcass was immediately cut up, and a part of it hastily cooked
and ravenously devoured. A man was now sent on horseback with a
supply of the flesh to Mr. Crooks and his companions. He reached
them in the night; they were so famished that the supply sent
them seemed but to aggravate their hunger, and they were almost
tempted to kill and eat the horse that had brought the messenger.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Just Folks by Edgar A. Guest: And then they sadly say:
"I neither dubbed, nor foozled one
When I played--yesterday."
I have no yesterdays to count,
No good work to recall;
Each morning sees hope proudly mount,
Each evening sees it fall.
And in the locker room at night,
When men discuss their play,
I hear them and I wish I might
Have seen them--yesterday,
 Just Folks |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from La Grande Breteche by Honore de Balzac: accustomed no doubt to listen to himself and to make himself listened
to by his clients or fellow-townsmen, were too much for my curiosity.
Happily, he soon went away.
" 'Ah, ha, monsieur,' said he on the stairs, 'a good many persons
would be glad to live five-and-forty years longer; but--one moment!'
and he laid the first finger of his right hand to his nostril with a
cunning look, as much as to say, 'Mark my words!--To last as long as
that--as long as that,' said he, 'you must not be past sixty now.'
"I closed my door, having been roused from my apathy by this last
speech, which the notary thought very funny; then I sat down in my
armchair, with my feet on the fire-dogs. I had lost myself in a
 La Grande Breteche |