| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Prince by Nicolo Machiavelli: I will leave his other actions alone, as they were all alike, and they
all succeeded, for the shortness of his life did not let him
experience the contrary; but if circumstances had arisen which
required him to go cautiously, his ruin would have followed, because
he would never have deviated from those ways to which nature inclined
him.
I conclude, therefore that, fortune being changeful and mankind
steadfast in their ways, so long as the two are in agreement men are
successful, but unsuccessful when they fall out. For my part I
consider that it is better to be adventurous than cautious, because
fortune is a woman, and if you wish to keep her under it is necessary
The Prince |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Silas Marner by George Eliot: property's got no entail on it;--since my grandfather's time the
Casses can do as they like with their land. Remember that, sir.
Let Dunsey have the money! Why should you let Dunsey have the
money? There's some lie at the bottom of it."
"There's no lie, sir," said Godfrey. "I wouldn't have spent the
money myself, but Dunsey bothered me, and I was a fool, and let him
have it. But I meant to pay it, whether he did or not. That's the
whole story. I never meant to embezzle money, and I'm not the man
to do it. You never knew me do a dishonest trick, sir."
"Where's Dunsey, then? What do you stand talking there for? Go
and fetch Dunsey, as I tell you, and let him give account of what he
Silas Marner |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Another Study of Woman by Honore de Balzac: are some things she never knows, not even when she knows them. You
alone will be uneasy, you will know nothing of the state of her heart.
The great ladies of old flaunted their love-affairs, with newspapers
and advertisements; in these days the lady has her little passion
neatly ruled like a sheet of music with its crotchets and quavers and
minims, its rests, its pauses, its sharps to sign the key. A mere weak
women, she is anxious not to compromise her love, or her husband, or
the future of her children. Name, position, and fortune are no longer
flags so respected as to protect all kinds of merchandise on board.
The whole aristocracy no longer advances in a body to screen the lady.
She has not, like the great lady of the past, the demeanor of lofty
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