| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Woman of No Importance by Oscar Wilde: after all, as Lord Illingworth says, it is impossible to live in
such a place as Wrockley. You don't mind it. But I'm ambitions; I
want something more than that. I want to have a career. I want to
do something that will make you proud of me, and Lord Illingworth
is going to help me. He is going to do everything for me.
MRS. ARBUTHNOT. Gerald, don't go away with Lord Illingworth. I
implore you not to. Gerald, I beg you!
GERALD. Mother, how changeable you are! You don't seem to know
your own mind for a single moment. An hour and a half ago in the
Drawing-room you agreed to the whole thing; now you turn round and
make objections, and try to force me to give up my one chance in
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Secrets of the Princesse de Cadignan by Honore de Balzac: with a movement full of modest confusion.
One of the most skilful manoeuvres of these actresses is to veil their
manner when words are too expressive, and speak with their eyes when
language is restrained. These clever discords, slipped into the music
of their love, be it false or true, produce irresistible attractions.
"Is it not," she said, lowering her voice and her eyes, after feeling
well assured they had produced her effect,--"is it not fulfilling
one's destiny to have rendered a great man happy?"
"Did he not write that to you?"
"Yes; but I wanted to be sure, quite sure; for, believe me, monsieur,
in putting me so high he was not mistaken."
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Fisherman's Luck by Henry van Dyke: I must confess, if our preliminary incantation had brought forth a
cow or a basket of eggs.
But the good people seemed to divine our intentions; and while we
were waiting for one of the stable-boys to catch and harness the new
horse, a yellow-haired maiden inquired, in very fair English, if we
would not be pleased to have a cup of tea and some butter-bread;
which we did with great comfort.
The SKYDSGUT, or so-called postboy, for the next stage of the
journey, was a full-grown man of considerable weight. As he climbed
to his perch on our portmanteau, my lady Graygown congratulated me
on the prudence which had provided that one side of that receptacle
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