| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Animal Farm by George Orwell: on, if more money were needed, it would have to be made up by the sale of
eggs, for which there was always a market in Willingdon. The hens, said
Napoleon, should welcome this sacrifice as their own special contribution
towards the building of the windmill.
Once again the animals were conscious of a vague uneasiness. Never to have
any dealings with human beings, never to engage in trade, never to make
use of money--had not these been among the earliest resolutions passed at
that first triumphant Meeting after Jones was expelled? All the animals
remembered passing such resolutions: or at least they thought that they
remembered it. The four young pigs who had protested when Napoleon
abolished the Meetings raised their voices timidly, but they were promptly
 Animal Farm |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Myths and Myth-Makers by John Fiske: their wives into stone, the seventh brother--the crafty Boots
or many-witted Odysseus of European folk-lore--sets out to
obtain vengeance if not reparation for the evil done to his
kith and kin. On the way he shows the kindness of his nature
by rescuing from destruction a raven, a salmon, and a wolf.
The grateful wolf carries him on his back to the giant's
castle, where the lovely princess whom the monster keeps in
irksome bondage promises to act, in behalf of Boots, the part
of Delilah, and to find out, if possible, where her lord keeps
his heart. The giant, like the Jewish hero, finally succumbs
to feminine blandishments. "Far, far away in a lake lies an
 Myths and Myth-Makers |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Early Short Fiction of Edith Wharton by Edith Wharton: you show the letter to her father?"
There was a perceptible pause, during which Tony, while appearing
to look straight before him, managed to deflect an interrogatory
glance toward Polixena. Her reply was a faint negative motion,
accompanied by unmistakable signs of apprehension.
"Poor girl!" he thought, "she is in a worse case than I imagined,
and whatever happens I must keep her secret."
He turned to the Senator with a deep bow. "I am not," said he,
"in the habit of showing my private correspondence to strangers."
The Count interpreted these words, and Donna Polixena's father,
dashing his hand on his hilt, broke into furious invective, while
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