|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from War and the Future by H. G. Wells:
days of refreshment and accumulation, the Allied attack resumes.
That is the perfected method of the French offensive. I had the
pleasure of learning its broad outlines in good company, in the
company of M. Joseph Reinach and Colonel Carence, the military
writer. Their talk together and with me in the various messes at
which we lunched was for the most part a keen discussion of every
detail and every possibility of the offensive machine; every
French officer's mess seems a little council upon the one supreme
question in France, /how to do it best./ M. Reinach has
made certain suggestions about the co-operation of the French and
British that I will discuss elsewhere, but one great theme was
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde:
"Basil, my dear boy, puts everything that is charming in him
into his work. The consequence is that he has nothing left for
life but his prejudices, his principles, and his common sense.
The only artists I have ever known who are personally delightful
are bad artists. Good artists exist simply in what they make,
and consequently are perfectly uninteresting in what they are.
A great poet, a really great poet, is the most unpoetical of
all creatures. But inferior poets are absolutely fascinating.
The worse their rhymes are, the more picturesque they look.
The mere fact of having published a book of second-rate sonnets
makes a man quite irresistible. He lives the poetry that
The Picture of Dorian Gray
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from House of Mirth by Edith Wharton:
temptations to expenditure, were trials as far out of her
experience as the domestic problems of the char-woman. Mrs.
Trenor's unconsciousness of the real stress of the situation had
the effect of making it more galling to Lily. While her friend
reproached her for missing the opportunity to eclipse her rivals,
she was once more battling in imagination with the mounting tide
of indebtedness from which she had so nearly escaped. What wind
of folly had driven her out again on those dark seas?
If anything was needed to put the last touch to her
self-abasement it was the sense of the way her old life was
opening its ruts again to receive her. Yesterday her fancy had