The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Collection of Antiquities by Honore de Balzac: them, were realized, would not the magistrate have children of his own
to settle in life? Any one can imagine the situation for a little
woman with plenty of sense and determination, and Mme. Camusot was
such a woman. She did not refrain from meddling in matters judicial.
She had far too strong a sense of the gravity of a false step in her
husband's career.
She was the only child of an old servant of Louis XVIII., a valet who
had followed his master in his wanderings in Italy, Courland, and
England, till after the Restoration the King awarded him with the one
place that he could fill at Court, and made him usher by rotation to
the royal cabinet. So in Amelie's home there had been, as it were, a
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Damaged Goods by Upton Sinclair: console his broken-hearted mother, and in the two week they spent
in the country together the mother broached a plan to him. The
last wish of the dying man had been that his son should be fixed
in life. In the midst of his intense suffering he had been able
to think about the matter, and had named the girl whom he wished
George to marry. Naturally, George waited with some interest to
learn who this might be. He was surprised when his mother told
him that it was his cousin, Henriette Loches.
He could not keep his emotion from revealing itself in his face.
"It doesn't please you?" asked his mother, with a tone
disappointment.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Finished by H. Rider Haggard: large rough dog with a silver-mounted collar on its neck, I think
of the sort that is called an Airedale terrier, came up to me
whining. At first I thought it was an hyena, but discovering my
mistake, threw it some bits of meat which it ate greedily.
Doubtless it had belonged to some dead officer, though there was
no name on the collar. The poor beast, which I named Lost, at
once attached itself to me, and here I may say that I kept it
till its death, which occurred of jaundice at Durban not long
before I started on my journey to King Solomon's Mines. No man
ever had a more faithful friend and companion.
When I had eaten and drunk I looked about me, wondering what I
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