| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Daughter of Eve by Honore de Balzac: of the "dot." Thus the bank repaired the breach made in the pocket of
the magistracy by rank. Could the Comte de Vandenesse have seen
himself, three years later, the brother-in-law of a Sieur Ferdinand DU
Tillet, so-called, he might not have married his wife; but what man of
rank in 1828 foresaw the strange upheavals which the year 1830 was
destined to produce in the political condition, the fortunes, and the
customs of France? Had any one predicted to Comte Felix de Vandenesse
that his head would lose the coronet of a peer, and that of his
father-in-law acquire one, he would have thought his informant a
lunatic.
Bending forward on one of those low chairs then called "chaffeuses,"
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Flower Fables by Louisa May Alcott: waken into life, she thought of the strange forms she had seen, and,
looking down upon the flower on her breast, she silently resolved to
strive, as she had striven in her dream, to bring back light and
beauty to its faded leaves, by being what the Fairy hoped to render
her, a patient, gentle little child. And as the thought came to her
mind, the flower raised its drooping head, and, looking up into the
earnest little face bent over it, seemed by its fragrant breath to
answer Annie's silent thought, and strengthen her for what might come.
Meanwhile the forest was astir, birds sang their gay good-morrows
from tree to tree, while leaf and flower turned to greet the sun,
who rose up smiling on the world; and so beneath the forest boughs
Flower Fables |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Westward Ho! by Charles Kingsley: about Bideford once more, intending to return after Christmas and
read divinity, that he might become a parson, and a shepherd of
souls in his native land.
Jack was in person exceedingly like a pig: but not like every pig:
not in the least like the Devon pigs of those days, which, I am
sorry to say, were no more shapely than the true Irish greyhound
who pays Pat's "rint" for him; or than the lanky monsters who
wallow in German rivulets, while the village swineherd, beneath a
shady lime, forgets his fleas in the melody of a Jew's harp--
strange mud-colored creatures, four feet high and four inches
thick, which look as if they had passed their lives, as a collar of
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