| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from United States Declaration of Independence: deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore,
acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them,
as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.
We, therefore, the Representatives of the United States of America,
in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of
the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name,
and by the Authority of the good People of these Colonies,
solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are,
and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States;
that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown,
and that all political connection between them and the State
United States Declaration of Independence |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Collection of Antiquities by Honore de Balzac: Justice might give over a d'Esgrignon to the executioner's branding
iron. There was a dreadful pause. The old Marquise de Casteran could
not keep back a tear that stole down over her rouge, and turned her
head away to hide it.
Next day at noon, in the sunny weather, a whole excited population was
dispersed in groups along the high street, which ran through the heart
of the town, and nothing was talked of but the great affair. Was the
Count in prison or was he not?--All at once the Comte d'Esgrignon's
well-known tilbury was seen driving down the Rue Saint-Blaise; it had
evidently come from the Prefecture, the Count himself was on the box
seat, and by his side sat a charming young man, whom nobody
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Allan Quatermain by H. Rider Haggard: it does more or less give an air of truth to what I should otherwise
have set down as a lie. Look here; I will tell you all that
I know about the matter, which is not much. One afternoon, just
before sunset, I was sitting on the veranda, when a poor, miserable,
starved-looking man came limping up and squatted down before
me. I asked him where he came from and what he wanted, and thereon
he plunged into a long rambling narrative about how he belonged
to a tribe far in the north, and how his tribe was destroyed
by another tribe, and he with a few other survivors driven still
further north past a lake named Laga. Thence, it appears, he
made his way to another lake that lay up in the mountains, "a
Allan Quatermain |
