| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Man of Business by Honore de Balzac: Rue de Buffault, where he lived, was a man of exceeding stinginess,
possessed of forty thousand francs per annum. A week after the
instalment of the charming librarian he was delivered of a pun:
" 'You lend me books (livres), but I give you plenty of francs in
return,' said he.
"A few days later he put on a knowing little air, as much as to say,
'I know you are engaged, but my turn will come one day; I am a
widower.'
"He always came arrayed in fine linen, a cornflower blue coat, a
paduasoy waistcoat, black trousers, and black ribbon bows on the
double soled shoes that creaked like an abbe's; he always held a
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Ten Years Later by Alexandre Dumas: equipages from the shore to the yacht. The horses had been
embarked, having been hoisted from the boat upon the deck in
baskets expressly made for the purpose, and wadded in such a
manner that their limbs, even in the most violent fits of
terror or impatience, were always protected by the soft
support which the sides afforded, and their coats not even
turned. Eight of these baskets, placed side by side, filled
the ship's hold. It is well known that in short voyages
horses refuse to eat, but remain trembling all the while,
with the best of food before them, such as they would have
greatly coveted on land. By degrees, the duke's entire
Ten Years Later |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Tales of the Klondyke by Jack London: by the sea. The darkness was at its worst, and at midday the sun
could not clear the sky-line to the south. But the ice-jams were
smaller, the going better; so I pushed the dogs hard and traveled
late and early. As I said at Forty Mile, every inch of it was
snow-shoe work. And the shoes made great sores on our feet, which
cracked and scabbed but would not heal. And every day these sores
grew more grievous, till in the morning, when we girded on the
shoes, Long Jeff cried like a child. I put him at the fore of the
light sled to break trail, but he slipped off the shoes for
comfort. Because of this the trail was not packed, his moccasins
made great holes, and into these holes the dogs wallowed. The
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