| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Hellenica by Xenophon: final stroke of achievement, about to reach the pinnacle of
popularity, with Athens laid like a pocket dependency at his feet)--
the king persuaded three of the ephors to support him, and forthwith
called out the ban. With him marched contingents of all the allied
States, except the Boeotians and Corinthians. These maintained, that
to undertake such an expedition against the Athenians, in whose
conduct they saw nothing contrary to the treaty, was inconsistent with
their oaths. But if that was the language held by them, the secret of
their behaviour lay deeper; they seemed to be aware of a desire on the
part of the Lacedaemonians to annex the soil of the Athenians and to
reduce the state to vassalage. Pausanias encamped on the
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The American by Henry James: I used to nurse the marquis, and I was always in his room.
It was here at Fleurieres, in the autumn. We had a doctor
from Paris, who came and stayed two or three weeks in the house.
Then there came two others, and there was a consultation,
and these two others, as I said, declared that the marquis
couldn't be saved. After this they went off, pocketing
their fees, but the other one stayed and did what he could.
The marquis himself kept crying out that he wouldn't die,
that he didn't want to die, that he would live and look
after his daughter. Mademoiselle Claire and the viscount--
that was Mr. Valentin, you know--were both in the house.
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Daughter of Eve by Honore de Balzac: hitherto unperceived. It suddenly became clear to her what it is to
most women, the manifestation of an inward thought, a language, a
symbol. How many enjoyments in a toilet arranged to please HIM, to do
HIM honor! She gave herself up ingenuously to all those gracefully
charming things in which so many Parisian women spend their lives, and
which give such significance to all that we see about them, and in
them, and on them. Few women go to milliners and dressmakers for their
own pleasure and interest. When old they never think of adornment. The
next time you meet in the street a young woman stopping for a moment
to look into a shop-window, examine her face carefully. "Will he think
I look better in that?" are the words written on that fair brow, in
|
