|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Oscar Wilde Miscellaneous by Oscar Wilde:
I will sit here and charm her loneliness
Lest she might sorrow for you overmuch.
What say you, good Simone?
SIMONE. My noble Lord,
You bring me such high honour that my tongue
Like a slave's tongue is tied, and cannot say
The word it would. Yet not to give you thanks
Were to be too unmannerly. So, I thank you,
From my heart's core.
It is such things as these
That knit a state together, when a Prince
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Marriage Contract by Honore de Balzac:
that there are habits and ways between us which must be broken up? My
influence ought to yield to yours. I want you to love me, and to
believe that I have your interests more at heart than you think for.
Young husbands are, sooner or later, jealous for the love of a wife
for her mother. Perhaps they are right. When you are thoroughly
united, when love has blended your two souls into one, then, my dear
son, you will not fear an opposing influence if I live in your house.
I know the world, and men, and things; I have seen the peace of many a
home destroyed by the blind love of mothers who made themselves in the
end as intolerable to their daughters as to their sons-in-law. The
affection of old people is often exacting and querulous. Perhaps I
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Roads of Destiny by O. Henry:
a-wavin'. He's true and nat'ral to life. He's jest hankerin' fur a cow
pony to round him up and send him scootin' back to the bunch. Dang my
hide! jest look at that tail of his'n a-wavin'. Never knowed a steer
to wave his tail any other way, dang my hide ef I did."
Jud Shelby, while admitting the excellence of the steer, resolutely
confined himself to open admiration of the landscape, to the end that
the entire picture receive its meed of praise.
"That piece of range," he declared, "is a dead ringer for Dead Hoss
Valley. Same grass, same lay of land, same old Whipperwill Creek
skallyhootin' in and out of them motts of timber. Them buzzards on the
left is circlin' 'round over Sam Kildrake's old paint hoss that killed