|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Deputy of Arcis by Honore de Balzac:
have guessed the truth. As it was, he felt completely bewildered; but
not committing the blunder of losing his time in useless conjectures,
he went on without a moment's delay to Hanwell, which establishment is
only about nine miles from London, pleasantly situated at the foot of
a hill on the borders of Middlesex and Surrey.
After a long detention in the waiting-room, he was at last enabled to
see his friend at a moment when Marie-Gaston's insanity, which for
several days had been in the stages of mania, was yielding to the care
of the doctor, and showed some symptoms of a probable recovery. As
soon as Sallenauve was alone with the organist, he inquired the reason
that led him to follow him; and he heard, with some emotion, the news
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Give Me Liberty Or Give Me Death by Patrick Henry:
to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery!
Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston!
The war is inevitable--and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come.
It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace--
but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps
from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms!
Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle?
What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear,
or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery?
Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take;
but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Adieu by Honore de Balzac:
rose, forgot his fatigue, and followed him silently, grieved to have
touched a wound that was evidently not healed.
"Some day, my friend," said Philippe, pressing his hand, and thanking
him for his mute repentance by a heart-rending look, "I will relate to
you my life. To-day I cannot."
They continued their way in silence. When the colonel's pain seemed
soothed, the marquis resumed his fatigue; and with the instinct, or
rather the will, of a wearied man his eye took in the very depths of
the forest; he questioned the tree-tops and examined the branching
paths, hoping to discover some dwelling where he could ask
hospitality. Arriving at a cross-ways, he thought he noticed a slight