| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Man that Corrupted Hadleyburg by Mark Twain: the recent episode had spread this fame far and wide, and thus had
focussed the eyes of the American world upon this village, and made
its name for all time, as he hoped and believed, a synonym for
commercial incorruptibility. [Applause.] "And who is to be the
guardian of this noble fame--the community as a whole? No! The
responsibility is individual, not communal. From this day forth
each and every one of you is in his own person its special guardian,
and individually responsible that no harm shall come to it. Do you-
-does each of you--accept this great trust? [Tumultuous assent.]
Then all is well. Transmit it to your children and to your
children's children. To-day your purity is beyond reproach--see to
The Man that Corrupted Hadleyburg |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Poems of William Blake by William Blake: To fade away like morning beauty from her mortal day:
Down by the river of Adona her soft voice is heard;
And thus her gentle lamentation falls like morning dew.
O life of this our spring! why fades the lotus of the water?
Why fade these children of the spring? born but to smile & fall.
Ah! Thel is like a watry bow, and like a parting cloud,
Like a reflection in a glass: like shadows in the water
Like dreams of infants, like a smile upon an infants face.
Like the doves voice, like transient day, like music in the air:
Ah! gentle may I lay me down and gentle rest my head.
And gentle sleep the sleep of death, and gently hear the voice
Poems of William Blake |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Glimpses of the Moon by Edith Wharton: to have been free to tell Nick what she had learned on the night
of their arrival, and then to have gone away with him, no matter
where. But there was Clarissa--!
To fortify herself against the temptation, she resolutely fixed
her thoughts on her husband. Of Nick's beatitude there could be
no doubt. He adored her, he revelled in Venice, he rejoiced in
his work; and concerning the quality of that work her judgment
was as confident as her heart. She still doubted if he would
ever earn a living by what he wrote, but she no longer doubted
that he would write something remarkable. The mere fact that he
was engaged on a philosophic romance, and not a mere novel,
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