| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Distinguished Provincial at Paris by Honore de Balzac: the Norman ex-greengrocer.--Come along, old Tartar!" shouted Lousteau.
"Here am I," said a voice like a cracked bell.
"Brought the money with you?"
"Money? There is no money now in the trade," retorted the other, a
young man who eyed Lucien curiously.
"Imprimis, you owe me fifty francs," Lousteau continued.
"There are two copies of Travels in Egypt here, a marvel, so they say,
swarming with woodcuts, sure to sell. Finot has been paid for two
reviews that I am to write for him. ITEM two works, just out, by
Victor Ducange, a novelist highly thought of in the Marais. ITEM a
couple of copies of a second work by Paul de Kock, a beginner in the
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Woman of No Importance by Oscar Wilde: got on your side the most wonderful thing in the world - youth!
There is nothing like youth. The middle-aged are mortgaged to
Life. The old are in life's lumber-room. But youth is the Lord of
Life. Youth has a kingdom waiting for it. Every one is born a
king, and most people die in exile, like most kings. To win back
my youth, Gerald, there is nothing I wouldn't do - except take
exercise, get up early, or be a useful member of the community.
GERALD. But you don't call yourself old, Lord Illingworth?
LORD ILLINGWORTH. I am old enough to be your father, Gerald.
GERALD. I don't remember my father; he died years ago.
LORD ILLINGWORTH. So Lady Hunstanton told me.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from McTeague by Frank Norris: him to flight from the Big Dipper mine, and he had obeyed.
But now it was different; now he had suddenly become rich;
he had lighted on a treasure--a treasure far more valuable
than the Big Dipper mine itself. How was he to leave that?
He could not move on now. He turned about in his blankets.
No, he would not move on. Perhaps it was his fancy, after
all. He saw nothing, heard nothing. The emptiness of
primeval desolation stretched from him leagues and leagues
upon either hand. The gigantic silence of the night lay
close over everything, like a muffling Titanic palm. Of what
was he suspicious? In that treeless waste an object could be
McTeague |
