| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from An Historical Mystery by Honore de Balzac: conscience of a calling. Lechesneau's perplexities came from this
conscience, which all men put into the proper performance of the
duties they like--scientific men into science, artists into art,
judges into the rendering of justice. Perhaps for this reason judges
are really greater safeguards for persons accused of wrong-doing than
are juries. A magistrate relies only on reason and its laws; juries
are floated to and fro by the waves of sentiment. The director of the
jury accordingly set several questions before his mind, resolving to
find in their solution satisfactory reasons for making the arrests.
Though the news of the abduction was already agitating the town of
Troyes, it was still unknown at Arcis, where the inhabitants were
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Kreutzer Sonata by Leo Tolstoy: directing his steps toward the barn. Before getting through with
his work the sun had set and the boys had returned from their
plowing. Ivan met them and asked about their work, helping them
to put things in order and leaving the broken horse-collar aside
to be repaired. He intended to perform some other duties, but it
became too dark and he was obliged to leave them till the next
day. He fed the cattle, however, and opened the gate that
Taraska might take his horses to pasture for the night, after
which he closed it again and went into the house for his supper.
By this time he had forgotten all about Gavryl and what his
father had said to him. Yet, just as he touched the door-knob,
 The Kreutzer Sonata |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Chita: A Memory of Last Island by Lafcadio Hearn: fever-stricken man the change meant death ... Impossible to bring
the priest of the Caminada now; and there was no other within a
day's sail. She could only pray; she had lost all hope in her
own power to save.
Still the sick man raved; but he talked to himself at longer
intervals, and with longer pauses between his words;---his voice
was growing more feeble, his speech more incoherent. His thought
vacillated and distorted, like flame in a wind.
Weirdly the past became confounded with the present; impressions
of sight and of sound interlinked in fastastic affinity,---the
face of Chita Viosca, the murmur of the rising storm. Then
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