| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Prince by Nicolo Machiavelli: was. His obsequies were celebrated with every sign of mourning, and he
was buried in San Francesco at Lucca. Fortune was not so friendly to
Pagolo Guinigi as she had been to Castruccio, for he had not the
abilities. Not long after the death of Castruccio, Pagolo lost Pisa,
and then Pistoia, and only with difficulty held on to Lucca. This
latter city continued in the family of Guinigi until the time of the
great-grandson of Pagolo.
From what has been related here it will be seen that Castruccio was a
man of exceptional abilities, not only measured by men of his own
time, but also by those of an earlier date. In stature he was above
the ordinary height, and perfectly proportioned. He was of a gracious
The Prince |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Elizabeth and her German Garden by Marie Annette Beauchamp: How enchanted those years are is made more and more clear to me
the older I grow. There has been nothing in the least like them since;
and though I have forgotten most of what happened six months ago,
every incident, almost every day of those wonderful long years
is perfectly distinct in my memory.
But I had been stiffnecked, proud, unpleasant, altogether
cousinly in my behaviour towards the people in possession.
The invitations to revisit the old home had ceased.
The cousins had grown tired of refusals, and had left me alone.
I did not even know who lived in it now, it was so long
since I had had any news. For two days I fought against
Elizabeth and her German Garden |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Passion in the Desert by Honore de Balzac: overpart of her dress, yellow like burnished gold, very lissome and
soft, had the characteristic blotches in the form of rosettes, which
distinguish the panther from every other feline species.
This tranquil and formidable hostess snored in an attitude as graceful
as that of a cat lying on a cushion. Her blood-stained paws, nervous
and well armed, were stretched out before her face, which rested upon
them, and from which radiated her straight slender whiskers, like
threads of silver.
If she had been like that in a cage, the Provencal would doubtless
have admired the grace of the animal, and the vigorous contrasts of
vivid color which gave her robe an imperial splendor; but just then
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