| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from American Notes by Rudyard Kipling: Just before I began to feel deathly sick another reporter
grappled me. What he wanted to know was the precise area of
India in square miles. I referred him to Whittaker. He had
never heard of Whittaker. He wanted it from my own mouth, and I
would not tell him. Then he swerved off, just like the other
man, to details of journalism in our own country. I ventured to
suggest that the interior economy of a paper most concerned the
people who worked it.
"That's the very thing that interests us," he said. "Have you
got reporters anything like our reporters on Indian newspapers?"
"We have not," I said, and suppressed the "thank God" rising to
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from On the Origin of Species by Charles Darwin: between domestic races and species, this source of doubt could not so
perpetually recur. It has often been stated that domestic races do not
differ from each other in characters of generic value. I think it could be
shown that this statement is hardly correct; but naturalists differ most
widely in determining what characters are of generic value; all such
valuations being at present empirical. Moreover, on the view of the origin
of genera which I shall presently give, we have no right to expect often to
meet with generic differences in our domesticated productions.
When we attempt to estimate the amount of structural difference between the
domestic races of the same species, we are soon involved in doubt, from not
knowing whether they have descended from one or several parent-species.
On the Origin of Species |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Ball at Sceaux by Honore de Balzac: from the Brazilian Legation, which will help to lift the cloud from
his brow. What do you think of him?"
"Well, your brother's face does not look to me like that of a man
busied with money matters."
The young attache shot a scrutinizing glance at the apparently calm
face of his partner.
"What!" he exclaimed, with a smile, "can young ladies read the
thoughts of love behind the silent brow?"
"Your brother is in love, then?" she asked, betrayed into a movement
of curiosity.
"Yes; my sister Clara, to whom he is as devoted as a mother, wrote to
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