| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Scaramouche by Rafael Sabatini: like it."
Andre-Louis had paled a little; there was incredulity in his great
sombre eyes as they continued steadily to regard her. Of M. Binet
he took no notice.
"Surely, mademoiselle, you cannot mean that willingly, with open
eyes and a full understanding of what you do, you would exchange
an honourable wifehood for... for the thing that such men as M. de
La Tour d'Azyr may have in store for you?"
M. Binet made a wide gesture, and swung to his daughter. "You hear
him, the mealy-mouthed prude! Perhaps you'll believe at last that
marriage with him would be the ruin of you. He would always be
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Land of Footprints by Stewart Edward White: is rarely sufficient to repair a mistake. And also, in the case
of a herd ranging a wide country with much tall grass and several
drinking holes, it is rather difficult, without very good luck,
to locate them on any given night or morning. A few herds, a very
few, may have fixed habits, and so prove easy hunting.
These difficulties, while in no way formidable, are real enough
in their small way; but they are immensely increased when the
herds have been often disturbed. Disturbance need not necessarily
mean shooting. In countries unvisited by white men often the
pastoral natives will so annoy the buffalo by shoutings and other
means, whenever they appear near the tame cattle, that the huge
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Voyage to Abyssinia by Father Lobo: reproaches which the Abyssinian ecclesiastics aspersed us and our
religion with. They had taken advantage of the calamity that
happened the year of our arrival: and the Abyssins, with all their
wit, did not consider that they had often been distressed by the
grasshoppers before there came any Jesuits into the country, and
indeed before there were any in the world.
Whilst I was in these mountains, I went on Sundays and saints' days
sometimes to one church and sometimes to another. One day I went
out with a resolution not to go to a certain church, where I
imagined there was no occasion for me, but before I had gone far, I
found myself pressed by a secret impulse to return back to that same
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