| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from First Inaugural Address by Abraham Lincoln: rightful masters, the American people, shall withhold the
requisite means, or in some authoritative manner direct the contrary.
I trust this will not be regarded as a menace, but only as the
declared purpose of the Union that it WILL Constitutionally
defend and maintain itself.
In doing this there needs to be no bloodshed or violence; and there
shall be none, unless it be forced upon the national authority.
The power confided to me will be used to hold, occupy, and possess
the property and places belonging to the government, and to collect
the duties and imposts; but beyond what may be necessary for these objects,
there will be no invasion, no using of force against or among the people
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin by Robert Louis Stevenson: the lads. John, the heir, a yeoman and a fox-hunter, 'loud and
notorious with his whip and spurs,' settled down into a kind of
Tony Lumpkin, waiting for the shoes of his father and his aunt.
Thomas Frewen, the youngest, is briefly dismissed as 'a handsome
beau'; but he had the merit or the good fortune to become a doctor
of medicine, so that when the crash came he was not empty-handed
for the war of life. Charles, at the day-school of Northiam, grew
so well acquainted with the rod, that his floggings became matter
of pleasantry and reached the ears of Admiral Buckner. Hereupon
that tall, rough-voiced, formidable uncle entered with the lad into
a covenant: every time that Charles was thrashed he was to pay the
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Pierre Grassou by Honore de Balzac: great Salon with the hundred good pictures of that year, than his
twenty pictures could, among three thousand others, jumbled together
in six galleries.
By some strange contradiction, ever since the doors are open to every
one there has been much talk of unknown and unrecognized genius. When,
twelve years earlier, Ingres' "Courtesan," and that of Sigalon, the
"Medusa" of Gericault, the "Massacre of Scio" by Delacroix, the
"Baptism of Henri IV." by Eugene Deveria, admitted by celebrated
artists accused of jealousy, showed the world, in spite of the denials
of criticism, that young and vigorous palettes existed, no such
complaint was made. Now, when the veriest dauber of canvas can send in
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