| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Return of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs: "Stop!" he commanded. "Kill him if you will, but I will
see no brave man subjected to such indignities in my presence.
I have half a mind to turn him loose, that I may see how
long you would kick him then."
This threat put a sudden end to Rokoff's brutality, for he
had no craving to see Tarzan loosed from his bonds while
he was within reach of those powerful hands.
"Very well," he replied to the Arab; "I shall kill him presently."
"Not within the precincts of my DOUAR," returned the
sheik. "When he leaves here he leaves alive. What you do
with him in the desert is none of my concern, but I shall
The Return of Tarzan |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Familiar Studies of Men and Books by Robert Louis Stevenson: pictures, some similitude of the great and beautiful of
former days is handed down. In this way, public curiosity
may be gratified, but hardly any private aspiration after
fame. It is not likely that posterity will fall in love with
us, but not impossible that it may respect or sympathise; and
so a man would rather leave behind him the portrait of his
spirit than a portrait of his face, FIGURA ANIMI MAGIS QUAM
CORPORIS. Of those who have thus survived themselves most
completely, left a sort of personal seduction behind them in
the world, and retained, after death, the art of making
friends, Montaigne and Samuel Johnson certainly stand first.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Study of a Woman by Honore de Balzac: "Take these," he said, "and deliver them."
Joseph departed without a word; admirable servant!
We began to talk of the expedition to Morea, to which I was anxious to
be appointed as physician. Eugene remarked that I should lose a great
deal of time if I left Paris. We then conversed on various matters,
and I think you will be glad if I suppress the conversation.
When the Marquise de Listomere rose, about half-past two in the
afternoon of that day, her waiting-maid, Caroline, gave her a letter
which she read while Caroline was doing her hair (an imprudence which
many young women are thoughtless enough to commit).
"Dear angel of love," said the letter, "treasure of my life and
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