| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Salome by Oscar Wilde: passerai dans ma litiere sous la porte des vendeurs d'idoles, je
laisserai tomber une petite fleur pour vous, une petite fleur verte.
LE JEUNE SYRIEN. Princesse, je ne peux pas, je ne peux pas.
SALOME [souriant] Vous ferez cela pour moi, Narraboth. Vous savez
bien que vous ferez cela pour moi. Et demain quand je passerai dans
ma litiere sur le pont des acheteurs d'idoles je vous regarderai e
travers les voiles de mousseline, je vous regarderai, Narraboth, je
vous sourirai, peut-etre. Regardez-moi, Narraboth. Regardez-moi.
Ah! vous savez bien que vous allez faire ce que je vous demande.
Vous le savez bien, n'est-ce pas? . . . Moi, je sais bien.
LE JEUNE SYRIEN [faisant un signe au troisieme soldat] Faites sortir
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Prince Otto by Robert Louis Stevenson: heart more loudly tells you than my words. There is a day coming
when your vain dreams will roll away like clouds, and you will find
yourself alone. Then you will remember
OTTO.'
She read with a great horror on her mind; that day, of which he
wrote, was come. She was alone; she had been false, she had been
cruel; remorse rolled in upon her; and then with a more piercing
note, vanity bounded on the stage of consciousness. She a dupe! she
helpless! she to have betrayed herself in seeking to betray her
husband! she to have lived these years upon flattery, grossly
swallowing the bolus, like a clown with sharpers! she - Seraphina!
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Wrecker by Stevenson & Osbourne: the quarter. He turned out for our delectation a huge "crust" (as
we used to call it) of St. Stephen, wallowing in red upon his
belly in an exhausted receiver, and a crowd of Hebrews in blue,
green, and yellow, pelting him--apparently with buns; and
while we gazed upon this contrivance, regaled us with a piece
of his own recent biography, of which his mind was still very
full, and which he seemed to fancy, represented him in a heroic
posture. I was one of those cosmopolitan Americans, who
accept the world (whether at home or abroad) as they find it,
and whose favourite part is that of the spectator; yet even I was
listening with ill-suppressed disgust, when I was aware of a
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