| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Lady Windermere's Fan by Oscar Wilde: LORD DARLINGTON. This woman has purity and innocence. She has
everything we men have lost.
CECIL GRAHAM. My dear fellow, what on earth should we men do going
about with purity and innocence? A carefully thought-out
buttonhole is much more effective.
DUMBY. She doesn't really love you then?
LORD DARLINGTON. No, she does not!
DUMBY. I congratulate you, my dear fellow. In this world there
are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the
other is getting it. The last is much the worst; the last is a
real tragedy! But I am interested to hear she does not love you.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Market-Place by Harold Frederic: with suppressed excitement.
Lord Chaldon, his own voice shaken a little, interposed
with an explanation. "My friend is the head--the
respected head--of the firm of Fromentin Brothers.
I think you have--have dealings with them."
Thorpe, after a furtive instant of bewilderment,
opened his mouth. "Oh! I see," he said. "I know what you
mean now. With the French pronunciation, I didn't recognize
the name. I've always heard it called 'Fromen'-tin'
here in London. Oh, yes, of course--Fromen'tin Brothers."
His lips shut tight again at this. The listeners had
The Market-Place |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Juana by Honore de Balzac: shop? and the servant in her hammock? Besides, this old house echoes
the slightest sound; I can hear old Perez snoring even here. Come,
indeed! She can have nothing more to lose."
Bitter reflection! rakes alone are logical and will punish a woman for
devotion. Man created Satan and Lovelace; but a virgin is an angel on
whom he can bestow naught but his own vices. She is so grand, so
beautiful, that he cannot magnify or embellish her; he has only the
fatal power to blast her and drag her down into his own mire.
Montefiore waited for a later and more somnolent hour of the night;
then, in spite of his reflections, he descended the stairs without
boots, armed with his pistols, moving step by step, stopping to
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