| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Michael Strogoff by Jules Verne: Such were the questions which Alcide asked himself, but
he thought it best to make this incident known only to Harry
Blount, and they both agreed in not alarming their compan-
ions by revealing to them this new danger.
It is known that the soil of Central Asia is like a sponge
impregnated with liquid hydrogen. At the port of Bakou,
on the Persian frontier, on the Caspian Sea, in Asia Minor,
in China, on the Yuen-Kiang, in the Burman Empire,
springs of mineral oil rise in thousands to the surface of
the ground. It is an "oil country," similar to the one
which bears this name in North America.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Red Inn by Honore de Balzac: "I can see her," he said, "reading her prayers before she goes to bed.
She won't forget me; she is certain to say to herself, 'My poor
Prosper; I wonder where he is now!' If she has won a few sous from her
neighbors--your mother, perhaps," he added, nudging Wilhelm's elbow--
"she'll go and put them in the great red earthenware pot, where she is
accumulating a sum sufficient to buy the thirty acres adjoining her
little estate at Lescheville. Those thirty acres are worth at least
sixty thousand francs. Such fine fields! Ah! if I had them I'd live
all my days at Lescheville, without other ambition! How my father used
to long for those thirty acres and the pretty brook which winds
through the meadows! But he died without ever being able to buy them.
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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: was little! She sold her last silver forks to apprentice me to the old
maid who taught me to embroider.--And my poor father! What did she not
go through to make him end his days in happiness!" The girl shivered
at the remembrance, and hid her face in her hands.--"Well! come! let
us forget past sorrows!" she added, trying to rally her high spirits.
She blushed as she saw that Roger too was moved, but she dared not
look at him.
"What was your father?" he asked.
"He was an opera-dancer before the Revolution," said she, with an air
of perfect simplicity, "and my mother sang in the chorus. My father,
who was leader of the figures on the stage, happened to be present at
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