|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Melmoth Reconciled by Honore de Balzac:
innocent of any attempt to use their reasoning faculties, act upon
their strongest impulses. Castanier's crime was one of those matters
that raise so many questions, that, in order to debate about it, a
moralist might call for its "discussion by clauses," to make use of a
Passion had counseled the crime; the cruelly irresistible power of
feminine witchery had driven him to commit it; no man can say of
himself, "I will never do that," when a siren joins in the combat and
throws her spells over him.
So the word of life fell upon a conscience newly awakened to the
truths of religion which the French Revolution and a soldier's career
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Lady Windermere's Fan by Oscar Wilde:
good-bye. [Moves up C.] Oh, I remember. You'll think me absurd,
but do you know I've taken a great fancy to this fan that I was
silly enough to run away with last night from your ball. Now, I
wonder would you give it to me? Lord Windermere says you may. I
know it is his present.
LADY WINDERMERE. Oh, certainly, if it will give you any pleasure.
But it has my name on it. It has 'Margaret' on it.
MRS. ERLYNNE. But we have the same Christian name.
LADY WINDERMERE. Oh, I forgot. Of course, do have it. What a
wonderful chance our names being the same!
MRS. ERLYNNE. Quite wonderful. Thanks - it will always remind me
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Enemies of Books by William Blades:
But, as a portrait commonly precedes a biography, the curious
reader may wish to be told what this "Bestia audax,"
who so greatly ruffles the tempers of our eclectics, is like.
Here, at starting, is a serious chameleon-like difficulty,
for the bookworm offers to us, if we are guided by their words,
as many varieties of size and shape as there are beholders.
Sylvester, in his "Laws of Verse," with more words than wit, described him as
"a microscopic creature wriggling on the learned page, which, when discovered,
stiffens out into the resemblance of a streak of dirt."
The earliest notice is in "Micrographia," by R. Hooke, folio, London, 1665.
This work, which was printed at the expense of the Royal Society of London,