| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Ursula by Honore de Balzac: her more and more to her two old friends, and proved to them for the
hundredth time that no troubles but those of the heart could make her
suffer. The grief she felt for the loss of her godfather was far too
deep to let her even feel the bitterness of her change of fortune,
though it added fresh obstacles to her marriage. Savinien's distress
in seeing her thus reduced did her so much harm that she whispered to
him, as they came from mass on the morning on the day when she first
went to live in her new house:
"Love could not exist without patience; let us wait."
As soon as the form of the inventory was drawn up, Massin, advised by
Goupil (who turned to him under the influence of his secret hatred to
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Damnation of Theron Ware by Harold Frederic: the thing that he remembered best about Ireland.
He had drifted westward as an unconsidered, unresisting item
in that vast flight of the famine years. Others whom
he rubbed against in that melancholy exodus, and deemed
of much greater promise than himself, had done badly.
Somehow he did well. He learned the wheelwright's trade,
and really that seemed all there was to tell. The rest
had been calm and sequent progression--steady employment
as a journeyman first; then marriage and a house and lot;
the modest start as a master; the move to Octavius and
cheap lumber; the growth of his business, always marked
The Damnation of Theron Ware |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Glaucus/The Wonders of the Shore by Charles Kingsley: 'the arborets of jointed stone' - that fringe those pretty pools.
It is a charming sight to see the crimson banana-like leaves of the
Delesseria waving in their darkest corners; and the purple fibrous
tufts of Polysiphonia and Ceramia, 'fine as silkworm's thread.'
But there are many others which give variety and impart beauty to
these tide-pools. The broad leaves of the Ulva, finer than the
finest cambric, and of the brightest emerald-green, adorn the
hollows at the highest level, while, at the lowest, wave tiny
forests of the feathery Ptilota and Dasya, and large leaves, cut
into fringes and furbelows, of rosy Rhodymeniae. All these are
lovely to behold; but I think I admire as much as any of them, one
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