| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from My Antonia by Willa Cather: some of them ran ahead to open the cellar door. When we descended,
they all came down after us, and seemed quite as proud of the cave
as the girls were.
Ambrosch, the thoughtful-looking one who had directed me down by the plum
bushes, called my attention to the stout brick walls and the cement floor.
`Yes, it is a good way from the house,' he admitted. `But, you see, in winter
there are nearly always some of us around to come out and get things.'
Anna and Yulka showed me three small barrels; one full of dill pickles,
one full of chopped pickles, and one full of pickled watermelon rinds.
`You wouldn't believe, Jim, what it takes to feed them all!'
their mother exclaimed. `You ought to see the bread we bake on
My Antonia |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Gettysburg Address by Abraham Lincoln: 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,
what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.
It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished
work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.
It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining
before us. . .that from these honored dead we take increased devotion
to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion. . .
that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain. . .
that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom. . .
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Moon-Face and Other Stories by Jack London: smashing darkness descend upon his brain, and in the midst of the darkness
even the darkness ceased.
But the pocket-miner fired again and again, until the revolver was empty. Then
he tossed it from him and, breathing heavily, sat down on the dead man's legs.
The miner was sobbing and struggling for breath. "Measly skunk!" he panted;
"a-campin' on my trail an' lettin' me do the work, an' then shootin' me in the
back!"
He was half crying from anger and exhaustion, He peered at the face of the
dead man. It was sprinkled with loose dirt and gravel, and it was difficult to
distinguish the features.
"Never laid eyes on him before," the miner concluded his scrutiny. "Just a
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