| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Tour Through Eastern Counties of England by Daniel Defoe: spinning, the chief trade of the place depending upon the gentry
who live there, or near it, and who cannot fail to cause trade
enough by the expense of their families and equipages among the
people of a county town. They have but a very small river, or
rather but a very small branch of a small river, at this town,
which runs from hence to Milden Hall, on the edge of the fens.
However, the town and gentlemen about have been at the charge, or
have so encouraged the engineer who was at the charge, that they
have made this river navigable to the said Milden Hall, from whence
there is a navigable dyke, called Milden Hall Drain, which goes
into the River Ouse, and so to Lynn; so that all their coal and
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Spirit of the Border by Zane Grey: minister. "I feel an almost overpowering sense of loneliness. I want to get
near to you all; I feel lost. Yet it is grand, sublime!"
"Here is the promised land--the fruitful life--Nature as it was created by
God," replied the old minister, impressively.
"Tell us a story," said Nell to the old frontiersman, as he once more joined
the circle round the fire.
"So, little 'un, ye want a story?" queried Jeff, taking up a live coal and
placing it in the bowl of his pipe. He took off his coon-skin cap and
carefully laid it aside. His weather-beaten face beamed in answer to the
girl's request. He drew a long and audible pull at his black pipe, and send
forth slowly a cloud of white smoke. Deliberately poking the fire with a
The Spirit of the Border |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Daughter of Eve by Honore de Balzac: power that was unemployed. Her happiness gave her no suffering; it
rolled along without care or uneasiness; she was not afraid of losing
it; each morning it shone upon her, with the same blue sky, the same
smile, the same sweet words. That clear, still lake was unruffled by
any breeze, even a zephyr; she would fain have seen a ripple on its
glassy surface. Her desire had something so infantine about it that it
ought to be excused; but society is not more indulgent than the God of
Genesis. Madame de Vandenesse, having now become intelligently clever,
was aware that such sentiments were not permissible, and she refrained
from confiding them to her "dear little husband." Her genuine
simplicity had not invented any other name for him; for one can't call
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