| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from In a German Pension by Katherine Mansfield: in this disgusting house while Casimir scours the land in the hope of
finding one editorial open door--it's humiliating. It's changed my whole
nature. I wasn't born for poverty--I only flower among really jolly
people, and people who never are worried."
The figure of the strange man rose before her--would not be dismissed.
"That was the man for me, after all is said and done--a man without a care
--who'd give me everything I want and with whom I'd always feel that sense
of life and of being in touch with the world. I never wanted to fight--it
was thrust on me. Really, there's a fount of happiness in me, that is
drying up, little by little, in this hateful existence. I'll be dead if
this goes on--and"--she stirred in the bed and flung out her arms--"I want
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Aspern Papers by Henry James: you a hand," I interposed with a pacifying intention.
"Oh, she insisted that we should push her; and when she insists!"
said Miss Tita in the same tone of apprehension; as if there were no
knowing what service that she disapproved of her aunt might force
her next to render.
"I have always got most things done I wanted, thank God!
The people I have lived with have humored me," the old
woman continued, speaking out of the gray ashes of her vanity.
"I suppose you mean that they have obeyed you."
"Well, whatever it is, when they like you."
"It's just because I like you that I want to resist,"
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Hidden Masterpiece by Honore de Balzac: to revel in the triumph which the beauty of his virgin was about to
win over the beauty of the living woman.
"Do not let him retract," cried Porbus, striking Poussin on the
shoulder. "The fruits of love wither in a day; those of art are
immortal."
"Can it be," said Gillette, looking steadily at Poussin and at Porbus,
"that I am nothing more than a woman to him?"
She raised her head proudly; and as she glanced at Frenhofer with
flashing eyes she saw her lover gazing once more at the picture he had
formerly taken for a Giorgione.
"Ah!" she cried, "let us go in; he never looked at me like that!"
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