| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Aesop's Fables by Aesop: big as a mountain, with horns on its head, and a long tail, and it
had hoofs divided in two."
"Tush, child, tush," said the old Frog, "that was only Farmer
White's Ox. It isn't so big either; he may be a little bit taller
than I, but I could easily make myself quite as broad; just you
see." So he blew himself out, and blew himself out, and blew
himself out. "Was he as big as that?" asked he.
"Oh, much bigger than that," said the young Frog.
Again the old one blew himself out, and asked the young one if
the Ox was as big as that.
"Bigger, father, bigger," was the reply.
Aesop's Fables |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Vicar of Tours by Honore de Balzac: began to injure his health. One morning, as he put on his mottled blue
stockings, he noticed a marked dimunition in the circumference of his
calves. Horrified by so cruel and undeniable a symptom, he resolved to
make an effort and appeal to the Abbe Troubert, requesting him to
intervene, officially, between Mademoiselle Gamard and himself.
When he found himself in presence of the imposing canon, who, in order
to receive his visitor in a bare and cheerless room, had hastily
quitted a study full of papers, where he worked incessantly, and where
no one was ever admitted, the vicar felt half ashamed at speaking of
Mademoiselle Gamard's provocations to a man who appeared to be so
gravely occupied. But after going through the agony of the mental
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Gettysburg Address by Abraham Lincoln: dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war. . .testing whether
that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated. . .
can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war.
We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place
for those who here gave their lives that this nation might live.
It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate. . .we cannot consecrate. . .
we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead,
who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power
to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember,
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