| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Secrets of the Princesse de Cadignan by Honore de Balzac: certain to see him in the corridor close to my door, casting a furtive
glance upon me. He had apparently learned to know the persons
belonging to my circle; and he followed them when he saw them turning
in the direction of my box, in order to obtain the benefit of the
opening door. I also found my mysterious adorer at the Italian opera-
house; there he had a stall directly opposite to my box, where he
could gaze at me in naive ecstasy--oh! it was pretty! On leaving
either house I always found him planted in the lobby, motionless; he
was elbowed and jostled, but he never moved. His eyes grew less
brilliant if he saw me on the arm of some favorite. But not a word,
not a letter, no demonstration. You must acknowledge that was in good
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Another Study of Woman by Honore de Balzac: Her toilet is always in harmony with her character; she had had time
to study herself, to learn what becomes her, for she has long known
what does not suit her. You will not find her as you go out; she
vanishes before the end of the play. If by chance she is to be seen,
calm and stately, on the stairs, she is experiencing some violent
emotion; she has to bestow a glance, to receive a promise. Perhaps she
goes down so slowly on purpose to gratify the vanity of a slave whom
she sometimes obeys. If your meeting takes place at a ball or an
evening party, you will gather the honey, natural or affected of her
insinuating voice; her empty words will enchant you, and she will know
how to give them the value of thought by her inimitable bearing."
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Intentions by Oscar Wilde: VIVIAN. Briefly, then, they are these. Art never expresses
anything but itself. It has an independent life, just as Thought
has, and develops purely on its own lines. It is not necessarily
realistic in an age of realism, nor spiritual in an age of faith.
So far from being the creation of its time, it is usually in direct
opposition to it, and the only history that it preserves for us is
the history of its own progress. Sometimes it returns upon its
footsteps, and revives some antique form, as happened in the
archaistic movement of late Greek Art, and in the pre-Raphaelite
movement of our own day. At other times it entirely anticipates
its age, and produces in one century work that it takes another
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