| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Distinguished Provincial at Paris by Honore de Balzac: her part over! My Coralie, my little pet, she is! She deserved that
God in heaven should send her one of His angels. She was sick of the
life.--She was so unhappy with her mother that used to beat her, and
sold her. Yes, sir, sold her own child! If I had a daughter, I would
wait on her hand and foot as I wait on Coralie; she is like my own
child to me.--These are the first good times she has seen since I have
been with her; the first time that she has been really applauded. You
have written something, it seems, and they have got up a famous claque
for the second performance. Braulard has been going through the play
with her while you were asleep."
"Who? Braulard?" asked Lucien; it seemed to him that he had heard the
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Book of Remarkable Criminals by H. B. Irving: Shaw would seem to have had a good deal of sympathy with
Webster's embarrassments; he considered the Professor's income
very inadequate to his position, and showed himself quite ready
at a later period to waive his debt altogether.
Dr. Parkman was a less easy-going creditor. Forbearing and
patient as long as he was dealt with fairly, he was merciless
where he thought he detected trickery or evasion. His
forbearance and his patience were utterly exhausted, his anger
and indignation strongly aroused, when he learnt from Shaw that
Webster had given him as security for his debt a bill of sale on
the collection of minerals, already mortgaged to himself. From
 A Book of Remarkable Criminals |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Lone Star Ranger by Zane Grey: and his white-haired mother. He saw the old home life,
sweetened and filled by dear new faces and added joys, go on
before his eyes with him a part of it.
Then in the inevitable reaction, in the reflux of bitter
reality, he would send out a voiceless cry no less poignant
because it was silent: "Poor fool! No, I shall never see mother
again--never go home--never have a home. I am Duane, the Lone
Wolf! Oh, God! I wish it were over! These dreams torture me!
What have I to do with a mother, a home, a wife? No
bright-haired boy, no dark-eyed girl will ever love me. I am an
outlaw, an outcast, dead to the good and decent world. I am
 The Lone Star Ranger |