| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Pierre Grassou by Honore de Balzac: of justice that made the justness of his remarks acceptable. After the
revolution of July, Fougeres sent about ten pictures a year to the
Salon, of which the jury admitted four or five. He lived with the most
rigid economy, his household being managed solely by an old charwoman.
For all amusement he visited his friends, he went to see works of art,
he allowed himself a few little trips about France, and he planned to
go to Switzerland in search of inspiration. This detestable artist was
an excellent citizen; he mounted guard duly, went to reviews, and paid
his rent and provision-bills with bourgeois punctuality.
Having lived all his life in toil and poverty, he had never had the
time to love. Poor and a bachelor, until now he did not desire to
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Wife, et al by Anton Chekhov: There is a dull pain in my cheek, the tic beginning. To occupy
myself with thoughts, I go back to my old point of view, when I
was not so indifferent, and ask myself why I, a distinguished
man, a privy councillor, am sitting in this little hotel room, on
this bed with the unfamiliar grey quilt. Why am I looking at that
cheap tin washing-stand and listening to the whirr of the
wretched clock in the corridor? Is all this in keeping with my
fame and my lofty position? And I answer these questions with a
jeer. I am amused by the naivete with which I used in my youth to
exaggerate the value of renown and of the exceptional position
which celebrities are supposed to enjoy. I am famous, my name is
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Phoenix and the Turtle by William Shakespeare: To the phoenix and the dove,
Co-supreme and stars of love;
As chorus to their tragic scene.
THRENOS.
Beauty, truth, and rarity.
Grace in all simplicity,
Here enclos'd in cinders lie.
Death is now the phoenix' nest;
And the turtle's loyal breast
To eternity doth rest,
Leaving no posterity:--
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