| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Lover's Complaint by William Shakespeare: Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw
The carcase of a beauty spent and done.
Time had not scythed all that youth begun,
Nor youth all quit; but, spite of Heaven's fell rage
Some beauty peeped through lattice of sear'd age.
Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne,
Which on it had conceited characters,
Laund'ring the silken figures in the brine
That season'd woe had pelleted in tears,
And often reading what contents it bears;
As often shrieking undistinguish'd woe,
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Z. Marcas by Honore de Balzac: remedies, there is such a competition that they fight each other with
disgusting advertisements on the walls of Paris.
In all the law courts there are almost as many lawyers as there are
cases. The pleader is thrown back on journalism, on politics, on
literature. In fact, the State, besieged for the smallest appointments
under the law, has ended by requiring that the applicants should have
some little fortune. The pear-shaped head of the grocer's son is
selected in preference to the square skull of a man of talent who has
not a sou. Work as he will, with all his energy, a young man, starting
from zero, may at the end of ten years find himself below the point he
set out from. In these days, talent must have the good luck which
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Second Home by Honore de Balzac: might be compared to the cracks in the walls. Whether she had been
born to poverty, or had fallen from some past splendor, she now seemed
to have been long resigned to her melancholy existence.
From sunrise till dark, excepting when she was getting a meal ready,
or, with a basket on her arm, was out purchasing provisions, the old
woman sat in the adjoining room by the further window, opposite a
young girl. At any hour of the day the passer-by could see the
needlewoman seated in an old, red velvet chair, bending over an
embroidery frame, and stitching indefatigably.
Her mother had a green pillow on her knee, and busied herself with
hand-made net; but her fingers could move the bobbin but slowly; her
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