| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Albert Savarus by Honore de Balzac: the royal family of France--"
"Oh! of a bastard branch, and that a female line."
"At any rate, she is Vicomtesse de Beauseant; and she did not--"
"Did not hesitate, you would say, to bury herself here with Monsieur
Gaston de Nueil, you would say," replied the daughter of the Colonnas.
"She is only a Frenchwoman; I am an Italian, my dear sir!"
Francesca turned away from the parapet, leaving Rodolphe, and went to
the further end of the terrace, whence there is a wide prospect of the
lake. Watching her as she slowly walked away, Rodolphe suspected that
he had wounded her soul, at once so simple and so wise, so proud and
so humble. It turned him cold; he followed Francesca, who signed to
Albert Savarus |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Walden by Henry David Thoreau: grasses, more obvious and interesting frequently than in summer
even, as if their beauty was not ripe till then; even cotton-grass,
cat-tails, mulleins, johnswort, hard-hack, meadow-sweet, and other
strong-stemmed plants, those unexhausted granaries which entertain
the earliest birds -- decent weeds, at least, which widowed Nature
wears. I am particularly attracted by the arching and sheaf-like
top of the wool-grass; it brings back the summer to our winter
memories, and is among the forms which art loves to copy, and which,
in the vegetable kingdom, have the same relation to types already in
the mind of man that astronomy has. It is an antique style, older
than Greek or Egyptian. Many of the phenomena of Winter are
Walden |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Life on the Mississippi by Mark Twain: a while, and saying, 'Drop into our cave to-night, after bombardment;
we've got hold of a pint of prime wh--.' Whiskey, I was going to say,
you know, but a shell interrupted. A chunk of it cut the man's arm off,
and left it dangling in my hand. And do you know the thing that is
going to stick the longest in my memory, and outlast everything else,
little and big, I reckon, is the mean thought I had then? It was 'the
whiskey IS SAVED.' And yet, don't you know, it was kind of excusable;
because it was as scarce as diamonds, and we had only just that little;
never had another taste during the siege.
'Sometimes the caves were desperately crowded, and always hot and close.
Sometimes a cave had twenty or twenty-five people packed into it;
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