|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Deputy of Arcis by Honore de Balzac:
hearing. I wrote to the president and asked for leave of absence, and
I took the precaution to request de l'Estorade, who knows the reason
of my absence, to be kind enough to guarantee me, should my absence be
called in question."
"I think you also wrote to Madame de l'Estorade, didn't you?"
"I wrote only to her," replied Sallenauve. "I wanted to tell her about
the great misfortune of our mutual friend, and, at the same time, I
asked her to explain to her husband the kind service I requested him
to do for me."
"If that is so," said Bricheteau, "you need not count for one moment
on the l'Estorades. A knowledge of this trick which is being organized
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Rinkitink In Oz by L. Frank Baum:
this order because they liked Nikobob and knew him to
be just and honest.
Soon as the last boat of the great flotilla had
disappeared from the view of those left at Regos, Inga
and Rinkitink prepared to leave the island themselves.
The boy was anxious to overtake the boat of King Gos,
if possible, and Rinkitink had no desire to remain in
Buzzub and the warriors stood silently on the shore
and watched the black boat with its silver lining
depart, and I am sure they were as glad to be rid of
Rinkitink In Oz
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from De Profundis by Oscar Wilde:
tragedy if it came to me with purple pall and a mask of noble
sorrow, but that the dreadful thing about modernity was that it put
tragedy into the raiment of comedy, so that the great realities
seemed commonplace or grotesque or lacking in style. It is quite
true about modernity. It has probably always been true about
actual life. It is said that all martyrdoms seemed mean to the
looker on. The nineteenth century is no exception to the rule.
Everything about my tragedy has been hideous, mean, repellent,
lacking in style; our very dress makes us grotesque. We are the
zanies of sorrow. We are clowns whose hearts are broken. We are
specially designed to appeal to the sense of humour. On November