|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Z. Marcas by Honore de Balzac:
subsistence, and felt ashamed of having watched him. His cupboard
stood open; in it there were two shirts, a white necktie and a razor.
The razor made me shudder. A looking-glass, worth five francs perhaps,
hung near the window.
The man's few and simple movements had a sort of savage grandeur. The
Doctor and I looked at each other, wondering what we could say in
reply. Juste, seeing that I was speechless, asked Marcas jestingly:
"You cultivate literature, monsieur?"
"Far from it!" replied Marcas. "I should not be so wealthy."
"I fancied," said I, "that poetry alone, in these days, was amply
sufficient to provide a man with lodgings as bad as ours."
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from My Aunt Margaret's Mirror by Walter Scott:
companion of earth without being at peace with you. What do I
know--your forgiveness may perhaps preserve for penitence the
dregs of a wretched life.'
"'Ha!' said the lady, as a sudden light broke on her, 'it is the
villain himself!' And grasping Sir Philip Forester--for it was
he, and no other--by the collar, she raised a cry of 'Murder,
murder! seize the murderer!'
"At an exclamation so singular, in such a place, the company
thronged into the apartment; but Sir Philip Forester was no
longer there. He had forcibly extricated himself from Lady
Bothwell's hold, and had run out of the apartment, which opened
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A House of Pomegranates by Oscar Wilde:
green velvet caps, and their jerkins of tanned deerskin, the
falconers passed by, with hooded hawks on their wrists. At
vintage-time came the grape-treaders, with purple hands and feet,
wreathed with glossy ivy and carrying dripping skins of wine; and
the charcoal-burners sat round their huge braziers at night,
watching the dry logs charring slowly in the fire, and roasting
chestnuts in the ashes, and the robbers came out of their caves and
made merry with them. Once, too, he had seen a beautiful
procession winding up the long dusty road to Toledo. The monks
went in front singing sweetly, and carrying bright banners and
crosses of gold, and then, in silver armour, with matchlocks and