| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from On the Origin of Species by Charles Darwin: the month of July, I came across a community with an unusually large stock
of slaves, and I observed a few slaves mingled with their masters leaving
the nest, and marching along the same road to a tall Scotch-fir-tree,
twenty-five yards distant, which they ascended together, probably in search
of aphides or cocci. According to Huber, who had ample opportunities for
observation, in Switzerland the slaves habitually work with their masters
in making the nest, and they alone open and close the doors in the morning
and evening; and, as Huber expressly states, their principal office is to
search for aphides. This difference in the usual habits of the masters and
slaves in the two countries, probably depends merely on the slaves being
captured in greater numbers in Switzerland than in England.
On the Origin of Species |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Mosses From An Old Manse by Nathaniel Hawthorne: moss-covered trunk of a large fallen tree, on the broadest part
of which she had spread a snow-white cloth and arranged what were
left of the bright pewter vessels that had been her pride in the
settlements. It had a strange aspect that one little spot of
homely comfort in the desolate heart of Nature. The sunshine yet
lingered upon the higher branches of the trees that grew on
rising ground; but the shadows of evening had deepened into the
hollow where the encampment was made, and the firelight began to
redden as it gleamed up the tall trunks of the pines or hovered
on the dense and obscure mass of foliage that circled round the
spot. The heart of Dorcas was not sad; for she felt that it was
Mosses From An Old Manse |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Under the Red Robe by Stanley Weyman: the next crimson with blushes, stood Mademoiselle de Cocheforet.
I cried out her name.
'M. de Berault,' she said, trembling. 'You did not expect to see
me?'
'I expected to see no one so little, Mademoiselle,' I answered,
striving to recover my composure.
'Yet you might have thought that we should not utterly desert
you,' she replied, with a reproachful humility which went to my
heart. 'We should have been base indeed, if we had not made some
attempt to save you. I thank Heaven, M. de Berault, that it has
so far succeeded that that strange man has promised me your life.
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