| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Soul of a Bishop by H. G. Wells: vigils and crammings and writings down, were using all and more
energy than the bishop could well spare, he was also doing his
quiet utmost to keep "The Light under the Altar" ease from coming
to a head.
This man he hated.
And he dreaded him as well as hated him. Chasters, the author
of "The Light under the Altar," was a man who not only reasoned
closely but indelicately. There was a demonstrating, jeering, air
about his preaching and writing, and everything he said and did
was saturated by the spirit of challenge. He did not so much
imitate as exaggerate the style of Matthew Arnold. And whatever
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Elixir of Life by Honore de Balzac: periodically recurrent bouilli, in the comforts of a warming-pan,
a lamp of a night, and a new pair of slippers once a quarter.
Nay, rather he seized upon existence as a monkey snatches a nut,
and after no long toying with it, proceeds deftly to strip off
the mere husks to reach the savory kernel within.
Poetry and the sublime transports of passion scarcely reached
ankle-depth with him now. He in nowise fell into the error of
strong natures who flatter themselves now and again that little
souls will believe in a great soul, and are willing to barter
their own lofty thoughts of the future for the small change of
our life-annuity ideas. He, even as they, had he chosen, might
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Early Short Fiction of Edith Wharton by Edith Wharton: his quick light irreverent mind. No one so full of a cheerful
animal life would believe in the craving for death as a
sufficient motive; and Granice racked his brain for one more
convincing. But suddenly he saw the reporter's face soften, and
melt to a naive sentimentalism.
"Mr. Granice--has the memory of it always haunted you?"
Granice stared a moment, and then leapt at the opening. "That's
it--the memory of it . . . always . . ."
McCarren nodded vehemently. "Dogged your steps, eh? Wouldn't
let you sleep? The time came when you HAD to make a clean breast
of it?"
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