| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The $30,000 Bequest and Other Stories by Mark Twain: the American nation when we tell him that we are informed upon perfectly
good authority that this extravagant compilation of falsehoods,
this exhaustless mine of stupendous lies, this INNOCENTS ABROAD,
has actually been adopted by the schools and colleges of several
of the states as a text-book!
But if his falsehoods are distressing, his innocence and his ignorance
are enough to make one burn the book and despise the author. In one
place he was so appalled at the sudden spectacle of a murdered man,
unveiled by the moonlight, that he jumped out of the window,
going through sash and all, and then remarks with the most childlike
simplicity that he "was not scared, but was considerably agitated."
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens: 'I wish you to remain here a little while, Varden,' said Mr
Haredale, without looking towards them. 'I have a word or two to
say to you.'
'I will not intrude upon your conference another moment,' said Mr
Chester with inconceivable politeness. 'May it be satisfactory to
you both! God bless you!' So saying, and bestowing upon the
locksmith a most refulgent smile, he left them.
'A deplorably constituted creature, that rugged person,' he said,
as he walked along the street; 'he is an atrocity that carries its
own punishment along with it--a bear that gnaws himself. And here
is one of the inestimable advantages of having a perfect command
Barnaby Rudge |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Happy Prince and Other Tales by Oscar Wilde: "If you want a red rose," said the Tree, "you must build it out of
music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart's-blood. You
must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long
you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your
life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine."
"Death is a great price to pay for a red rose," cried the
Nightingale, "and Life is very dear to all. It is pleasant to sit
in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and
the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the
hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and
the heather that blows on the hill. Yet Love is better than Life,
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