| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from La Grande Breteche by Honore de Balzac: to demolish the wall. She had already got out a few bricks, when,
turning to deal a stronger blow than before, she saw behind her
Monsieur de Merret. She fainted away.
" 'Lay madame on her bed,' said he coldly.
"Foreseeing what would certainly happen in his absence, he had laid
this trap for his wife; he had merely written to the Maire and sent
for Duvivier. The jeweler arrived just as the disorder in the room had
been repaired.
" 'Duvivier,' asked Monsieur de Merret, 'did not you buy some
crucifixes of the Spaniards who passed through the town?'
" 'No, monsieur.'
La Grande Breteche |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Helen of Troy And Other Poems by Sara Teasdale: When you were born, beloved, was your soul
New made by God to match your body's flower,
And were they both at one same precious hour
Sent forth from heaven as a perfect whole?
Or had your soul since dim creation burned,
A star in some still region of the sky,
That leaping earthward, left its place on high
And to your little new-born body yearned?
No words can tell in what celestial hour
God made your soul and gave it mortal birth,
Nor in the disarray of all the stars
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Glasses by Henry James: lone orphan that she was the centre of a crush. The neglect of the
Hammond Synges gave relief to this character, and she made it worth
their while to be, as every one said, too shocking. Lord Iffield
had gone to India to shoot tigers, but he returned in time for the
punctual private view: it was he who had snapped up, as Flora
called it, the gem of the exhibition. My hope for the girl's
future had slipped ignominiously off his back, but after his
purchase of the portrait I tried to cultivate a new faith. The
girl's own faith was wonderful. It couldn't however be contagious:
too great was the limit of her sense of what painters call values.
Her colours were laid on like blankets on a cold night. How indeed
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