| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Garden Party by Katherine Mansfield: needed them; but that it was no good getting any; they'd be sure to break
and they'd never keep on. And he'd been so patient. He'd suggested
everything--gold rims, the kind that curved round your ears, little pads
inside the bridge. No, nothing would please her. "They'll always be
sliding down my nose!" Miss Brill had wanted to shake her.
The old people sat on the bench, still as statues. Never mind, there was
always the crowd to watch. To and fro, in front of the flower-beds and the
band rotunda, the couples and groups paraded, stopped to talk, to greet, to
buy a handful of flowers from the old beggar who had his tray fixed to the
railings. Little children ran among them, swooping and laughing; little
boys with big white silk bows under their chins, little girls, little
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Pierre Grassou by Honore de Balzac: Coming last from Bordeaux, he was just starting in Paris, selling old
pictures and living on the boulevard Bonne-Nouvelle. Fougeres, who
relied on his palette to go to the baker's, bravely ate bread and
nuts, or bread and milk, or bread and cherries, or bread and cheese,
according to the seasons. Elie Magus, to whom Pierre offered his first
picture, eyed it for some time and then gave him fifteen francs.
"With fifteen francs a year coming in, and a thousand francs for
expenses," said Fougeres, smiling, "a man will go fast and far."
Elie Magus made a gesture; he bit his thumbs, thinking that he might
have had that picture for five francs.
For several days Pierre walked down from the rue des Martyrs and
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Edition of The Ambassadors by Henry James: not, she appealed to something large and easy in the girl before
him. Mamie would be fat, too fat, at thirty; but she would always
be the person who, at the present sharp hour, had been
disinterestedly tender. "If I see a little more of her, as I hope
I shall, I think she'll like me enough--for she seemed to like me
to-day--to want me to tell her."
"And SHALL you?"
"Perfectly. I shall tell her the matter with her is that she wants
only too much to do right. To do right for her, naturally," said
Mamie, "is to please."
"Her mother, do you mean?"
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