| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Pierrette by Honore de Balzac: her cousins as she herself forgave them, saying with her simple good
sense that the judgment of these things belonged to God alone.
"Grandmother," she said, "leave all you have to Brigaut" (Brigaut
burst into tears); "and," continued Pierrette, "give a thousand francs
to that kind Adele who warmed my bed. If Adele had remained with my
cousins I should not now be dying."
It was at three o'clock on the Tuesday of Easter week, on a beautiful,
bright day, that the angel ceased to suffer. Her heroic grandmother
wished to watch all that night with the priests, and to sew with her
stiff old fingers her darling's shroud. Towards evening Brigaut left
the Auffray's house and went to Frappier's.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Father Goriot by Honore de Balzac: that they may be the first to profit by them. But for his
observant curiosity, and the skill with which he managed to
introduce himself into the salons of Paris, this story would not
have been colored by the tones of truth which it certainly owes
to him, for they are entirely due to his penetrating sagacity and
desire to fathom the mysteries of an appalling condition of
things, which was concealed as carefully by the victim as by
those who had brought it to pass.
Above the third story there was a garret where the linen was hung
to dry, and a couple of attics. Christophe, the man-of-all-work,
slept in one, and Sylvie, the stout cook, in the other. Beside
Father Goriot |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Child's Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson: Oh, what a place for play,
With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air,
The happy hills of hay!
XL
Farewell to the Farm
The coach is at the door at last;
The eager children, mounting fast
And kissing hands, in chorus sing:
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
To house and garden, field and lawn,
The meadow-gates we swang upon,
A Child's Garden of Verses |
