| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Pierrette by Honore de Balzac: "Stuff and nonsense!"
"She means to marry her brother to Bathilde and leave her fortune to
their children."
"Rogron won't have any."
"Yes he will," replied Vinet. "But I promise to find you some young
and agreeable woman with a hundred and fifty thousand francs? Don't be
a fool; how can you and I afford to quarrel? Things have gone against
you in spite of all my care; but you don't understand me."
"Then we must understand each other," said the colonel. "Get me a wife
with a hundred and fifty thousand francs before the elections; if not
--look out for yourself! I don't like unpleasant bed-fellows, and
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from 'Twixt Land & Sea by Joseph Conrad: I added: "You won't have much more of me now."
He was still deep in the interior of that shoe on which my eyes too
were resting.
"Have you thought any more of this deal in potatoes I spoke to you
about the other day?"
"No, I haven't," I answered curtly. He checked my movement to rise
by an austere, commanding gesture of the hand holding that fatal
shoe. I remained seated and glared at him. "You know I don't
trade."
"You ought to, Captain. You ought to."
I reflected. If I left that house now I would never see the girl
 'Twixt Land & Sea |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Tales of Unrest by Joseph Conrad: grass, the bushes, the leaves. It was day. Shreds of white mist hung
between the branches of trees.
"Was it night or day? I saw nothing again till I heard Matara breathe
quickly where he lay, and then outside the house I saw her. I saw them
both. They had come out. She sat on a bench under the wall, and twigs
laden with flowers crept high above her head, hung over her hair. She
had a box on her lap, and gazed into it, counting the increase of her
pearls. The Dutchman stood by looking on; he smiled down at her; his
white teeth flashed; the hair on his lip was like two twisted flames.
He was big and fat, and joyous, and without fear. Matara tipped
fresh priming from the hollow of his palm, scraped the flint with his
 Tales of Unrest |