| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Wheels of Chance by H. G. Wells: politeness, "when I remark that you are following us?"
Mr. Hoopdriver, for some occult reason, resisted his
characteristic impulse to apologise. He wanted to annoy.the other
man in brown, and a sentence that had come into his head in a
previous rehearsal cropped up appropriately. "Since when," said
Mr. Hoopdriver, catching his breath, yet bringing the question
out valiantly, nevertheless,--"since when 'ave you purchased the
county of Sussex?"
"May I point out," said the other man in brown, "that I object--
we object not only to your proximity to us. To be frank--you
appear to be following us--with an object."
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Muse of the Department by Honore de Balzac: herself, nor receive any company, before she felt quite settled in her
home and had thoroughly studied the inhabitants, and, above all, her
taciturn husband. When, one spring morning in 1825, pretty Madame de
la Baudraye was first seen walking on the Mall in a blue velvet dress,
with her mother in black velvet, there was quite an excitement in
Sancerre. This dress confirmed the young woman's reputation for
superiority, brought up, as she had been, in the capital of Le Berry.
Every one was afraid lest in entertaining this phoenix of the
Department, the conversation should not be clever enough; and, of
course, everybody was constrained in the presence of Madame de la
Baudraye, who produced a sort of terror among the woman-folk. As they
The Muse of the Department |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Secrets of the Princesse de Cadignan by Honore de Balzac: way, the man of genius who is due to us, and yet so difficult to
obtain; there are more pretty women than men of genius. But the devil
interfered with the affair."
"Tell me about it, my dear; this is all news to me."
"I first noticed this beautiful passion about the middle of the winter
of 1829. Every Friday, at the opera, I observed a young man, about
thirty years of age, in the orchestra stalls, who evidently came there
for me. He was always in the same stall, gazing at me with eyes of
fire, but, seemingly, saddened by the distance between us, perhaps by
the hopelessness of reaching me."
"Poor fellow! When a man loves he becomes eminently stupid," said the
|
