|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Reign of King Edward the Third by William Shakespeare:
He was, my Lord: and as my worthless self
With forty other serviceable knights,
Under safe conduct of the Dauphin's seal,
Did travail that way, finding him distressed,
A troop of Lances met us on the way,
Surprised, and brought us prisoners to the king,
Who, proud of this, and eager of revenge,
Commanded straight to cut off all our heads:
And surely we had died, but that the Duke,
More full of honor than his angry sire,
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Democracy In America, Volume 1 by Alexis de Toqueville:
government. But I am of opinion that a central administration
enervates the nations in which it exists by incessantly
diminishing their public spirit. If such an administration
succeeds in condensing at a given moment, on a given point, all
the disposable resources of a people, it impairs at least the
renewal of those resources. It may ensure a victory in the hour
of strife, but it gradually relaxes the sinews of strength. It
may contribute admirably to the transient greatness of a man, but
it cannot ensure the durable prosperity of a nation.
If we pay proper attention, we shall find that whenever it
is said that a State cannot act because it has no central point,
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from 1984 by George Orwell:
that had blocked up the pipe. He cleaned his fingers as best he could in
the cold water from the tap and went back into the other room.
'Up with your hands!' yelled a savage voice.
A handsome, tough-looking boy of nine had popped up from behind the table
and was menacing him with a toy automatic pistol, while his small sister,
about two years younger, made the same gesture with a fragment of wood.
Both of them were dressed in the blue shorts, grey shirts, and red
neckerchiefs which were the uniform of the Spies. Winston raised his hands
above his head, but with an uneasy feeling, so vicious was the boy's
demeanour, that it was not altogether a game.
'You're a traitor!' yelled the boy. 'You're a thought-criminal! You're a