| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Sanitary and Social Lectures by Charles Kingsley: us; and that in proportion as he does his duty well; whether the
perfection of justice and safety, the complete "preservation of
body and goods," may not reduce the educated and comfortable
classes into that lap-dog condition in which not conscience, but
comfort, doth make cowards of us all. Our forefathers had, on the
whole, to take care of themselves; we find it more convenient to
hire people to take care of us. So much the better for us, in
some respects; but, it may be, so much the worse in others. So
much the better; because, as usually results from the division of
labour, these people, having little or nothing to do save to take
care of us, do so far better than we could; and so prevent a vast
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Sons of the Soil by Honore de Balzac: ours.' 'We'll see what we shall see next winter,' replied the second.
'My man has sworn the great oath that all the gendarmerie in the world
sha'n't keep us from getting our wood; he says he means to get it
himself, and if the worst happens so much the worse for them!' 'Good
God!' cried the other; 'we can't die of cold, and we must bake bread
to eat! They want for nothing, THOSE OTHERS! the wife of that
scoundrel of a Michaud will be taken care of, I warrant you!' And
then, Madame, they said such horrible things of me and of you and of
Monsieur le comte; and they finally declared that the farms would all
be burned, and then the chateau."
"Bah!" said Emile, "idle talk! They have been robbing the general, and
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Another Study of Woman by Honore de Balzac: had a thousand odd ways on the surface, such as often lead to a man of
genius being mistaken for a madman, and of which the explanation lies
in the exquisiteness and exacting needs of their intellect. He came to
seat himself in an armchair by his wife's side, and looked fixedly at
her. The dying woman put her hand out a little way, took her husband's
and clasped it feebly; and in a low but agitated voice she said, 'My
poor dear, who is left to understand you now?' Then she died, looking
at him."
"The stories the doctor tells us," said the Comte de Vandenesse,
"always leave a deep impression."
"But a sweet one," said Mademoiselle des Touches, rising.
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