| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Vicar of Tours by Honore de Balzac: answers. How she had slept, her breakfast, the trivial domestic
events, her looks, her health, the weather, the time the church
services had lasted, the incidents of the mass, the health of such or
such a priest,--these were the subjects of their daily conversation.
During dinner he invariably paid her certain indirect compliments; the
fish had an excellent flavor; the seasoning of a sauce was delicious;
Mademoiselle Gamard's capacities and virtues as mistress of a
household were great. He was sure of flattering the old maid's vanity
by praising the skill with which she made or prepared her preserves
and pickles and pates and other gastronomical inventions. To cap all,
the wily canon never left his landlady's yellow salon after dinner
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Three Taverns by Edwin Arlington Robinson: The foreign harvest of a wider growth,
And one without an end. Many there are,
And are to be, that shall partake of it,
Though none may share it with an understanding
That is not his alone. We are all alone;
And yet we are all parcelled of one order --
Jew, Gentile, or barbarian in the dark
Of wildernesses that are not so much
As names yet in a book. And there are many,
Finding at last that words are not the Word,
And finding only that, will flourish aloft,
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Garden Party by Katherine Mansfield: she breathed, "Good morning, Miss Meadows," and she motioned towards rather
than handed to her mistress a beautiful yellow chrysanthemum. This little
ritual of the flower had been gone through for ages and ages, quite a term
and a half. It was as much part of the lesson as opening the piano. But
this morning, instead of taking it up, instead of tucking it into her belt
while she leant over Mary and said, "Thank you, Mary. How very nice! Turn
to page thirty-two," what was Mary's horror when Miss Meadows totally
ignored the chrysanthemum, made no reply to her greeting, but said in a
voice of ice, "Page fourteen, please, and mark the accents well."
Staggering moment! Mary blushed until the tears stood in her eyes, but
Miss Meadows was gone back to the music stand; her voice rang through the
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