| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Chronicles of the Canongate by Walter Scott: we deal in without any one asking; the price of our merchandise.
But I do not rest my hopes upon this department of my labours
only. I propose also to have a corresponding shop for Sentiment,
and Dialogues, and Disquisition, which may captivate the fancy of
those who have no relish, as the established phrase goes, for
pure antiquity--a sort of greengrocer's stall erected in front of
my ironmongery wares, garlanding the rusty memorials of ancient
times with cresses, cabbages, leeks, and water purpy.
As I have some idea that I am writing too well to be understood,
I humble myself to ordinary language, and aver, with becoming
modesty, that I do think myself capable of sustaining a
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Taras Bulba and Other Tales by Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol: wrath was as if it had never existed. And he beheld before him only
his terrible father.
"Well, what are we going to do now?" said Taras, looking him straight
in the eyes. But Andrii could make no reply to this, and stood with
his eyes fixed on the ground.
"Well, son; did your Lyakhs help you?"
Andrii made no answer.
"To think that you should be such a traitor! that you should betray
your faith! betray your comrades! Dismount from your horse!"
Obedient as a child, he dismounted, and stood before Taras more dead
than alive.
Taras Bulba and Other Tales |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Passion in the Desert by Honore de Balzac: of regret. He repented having left the Maugrabins, whose nomadic life
seemed to smile upon him now that he was far from them and without
help. He was awakened by the sun, whose pitiless rays fell with all
their force on the granite and produced an intolerable heat--for he
had had the stupidity to place himself adversely to the shadow thrown
by the verdant majestic heads of the palm trees. He looked at the
solitary trees and shuddered--they reminded him of the graceful shafts
crowned with foliage which characterize the Saracen columns in the
cathedral of Arles.
But when, after counting the palm trees, he cast his eyes around him,
the most horrible despair was infused into his soul. Before him
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