| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Emerald City of Oz by L. Frank Baum: laughed and wanted to drink more of the water. No thought of injuring
any person was now in his mind.
Before he left the tunnel he had commanded his fifty thousand Nomes
to remain there until he ordered them to advance, as he wished to give
his allies time to conquer Oz before he appeared with his own army.
Ozma did not wish all these Nomes to overrun her land, so she advanced
to King Roquat and taking his hand in her own said gently:
"Who are you? What is your name?"
"I don't know," he replied, smiling at her. "Who are you, my dear?"
"My name is Ozma," she said; "and your name is Roquat."
"Oh, is it?" he replied, seeming pleased.
The Emerald City of Oz |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Muse of the Department by Honore de Balzac: Dinah do his work, and he paid her--as the French people say in their
vigorous lingo--in "monkey money," nothing for her pains. This
expenditure in self-sacrifice becomes a treasure which generous souls
prize, and the more she gave the more she loved Lousteau; the time
soon came when Dinah felt that it would be too bitter a grief ever to
give him up.
But then another child was coming, and this year was a terrible trial.
In spite of the precautions of the two women, Etienne contracted
debts; he worked himself to death to pay them off while Dinah was laid
up; and, knowing him as she did, she thought him heroic. But after
this effort, appalled at having two women, two children, and two maids
The Muse of the Department |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Nana, Miller's Daughter, Captain Burle, Death of Olivier Becaille by Emile Zola: official way.
It was the last phrase Fauchery was able to catch. He closed the
door after casting one more glance in the direction of the Countess
Sabine. She was talking sedately with the chief clerk and seemed to
be interested in that stout individual's conversation. Assuredly he
must have been deceiving himself. There was no "little rift" there
at all. It was a pity.
"You're not coming down then?" La Faloise shouted up to him from the
entrance hall.
And out on the pavement, as they separated, they once more repeated:
"Tomorrow, at Nana's."
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