| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Passion in the Desert by Honore de Balzac: back, stroked her warm, delicate flanks. She let him do what ever he
liked, and when he began to stroke the hair on her feet she drew her
claws in carefully.
The man, keeping the dagger in one hand, thought to plunge it into the
belly of the too confiding panther, but he was afraid that he would be
immediately strangled in her last convulsive struggle; besides, he
felt in his heart a sort of remorse which bid him respect a creature
that had done him no harm. He seemed to have found a friend, in a
boundless desert; half unconsciously he thought of his first
sweetheart, whom he had nicknamed "Mignonne" by way of contrast,
because she was so atrociously jealous that all the time of their love
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Treatise on Parents and Children by George Bernard Shaw: provide plenty of gates in their fences, and to leave them unlocked
when there are no growing crops to be damaged nor bulls to be
encountered, instead of, as at present, imprisoning the human race in
dusty or muddy thoroughfares between walls of barbed wire.
The reaction against vagabondage will come from the children
themselves. For them freedom will not mean the expensive kind of
savagery now called "the simple life." Their natural disgust with the
visions of cockney book fanciers blowing themselves out with "the wind
on the heath, brother," and of anarchists who are either too weak to
understand that men are strong and free in proportion to the social
pressure they can stand and the complexity of the obligations they are
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Glasses by Henry James: the grass in that rustle of delicate mourning which made the
endless variety of her garments, as a painter could take heed,
strike one always as the same obscure elegance. She seated herself
on the floor of my mother's chair, a little too much on her right
instep as I afterwards gathered, caressing her still hand, smiling
up into her cold face, commending and approving her without a
reserve and without a doubt. She told her immediately, as if it
were something for her to hold on by, that she was soon to sit to
me for a "likeness," and these words gave me a chance to enquire if
it would be the fate of the picture, should I finish it, to be
presented to the young man in the knickerbockers. Her lips, at
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