| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Paz by Honore de Balzac: I had made him my child, I had sacrificed my life to him. If he dies I
shall be without an interest on earth; but life is still beautiful to
a widow of twenty-four."
"Ah! but you know that I love no one," she said, with the impatience
of grief.
"You don't yet know what it is to love," said Thaddeus.
"Oh, as husbands are, I have sense enough to prefer a child like my
poor Adam to a superior man. It is now over a month that we have been
saying to each other, 'Will he live?' and these alternations have
prepared me, as they have you, for this loss. I can be frank with you.
Well, I would give my life to save Adam. What is a woman's
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Human Drift by Jack London: enduring the spectacle of its being eaten alive.
Our leaders were joys. King being a polo pony and Milda a rabbit,
they rounded curves beautifully and darted ahead like coyotes out
of the way of the wheelers. Milda's besetting weakness was a
frantic desire not to have the lead-bar strike her hocks. When
this happened, one of three things occurred: either she sat down
on the lead-bar, kicked it up in the air until she got her back
under it, or exploded in a straight-ahead, harness-disrupting
jump. Not until she carried the lead-bar clean away and danced a
break-down on it and the traces, did she behave decently. Nakata
and I made the repairs with good old-fashioned bale-rope, which is
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Cousin Betty by Honore de Balzac: the cloak of night. This question, frightful in itself, becomes
appalling when we note that these dwelling-houses are shut in on the
side towards the Rue de Richelieu by marshy ground, by a sea of
tumbled paving-stones between them and the Tuileries, by little
garden-plots and suspicious-looking hovels on the side of the great
galleries, and by a desert of building-stone and old rubbish on the
side towards the old Louvre. Henri III. and his favorites in search of
their trunk-hose, and Marguerite's lovers in search of their heads,
must dance sarabands by moonlight in this wilderness overlooked by the
roof of a chapel still standing there as if to prove that the Catholic
religion--so deeply rooted in France--survives all else.
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