| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Lesser Bourgeoisie by Honore de Balzac: countess is becoming, every day, more and more a necessity to
Brigitte; for it must be owned that without the help of the great
lady, the poor soul would look in the midst of her gilded salon like a
ragged gown in a bride's trousseau."
"Oh, Monsieur le maire, you are cruel," said Madame Phellion,
affecting compunction.
"No, but say," returned Minard, "with your hand on your conscience,
whether Brigitte, whether Madame Thuillier could preside in such a
salon? No, it is the Hungarian countess who does it all. She furnished
the rooms; she selected the male domestic, whose excellent training
and intelligence you must have observed; it was she who arranged the
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Circular Staircase by Mary Roberts Rinehart: noises before I did and gone to investigate, but I'm afraid I was
a moral coward that day. I could not ask her.
Perhaps the diversion was good for me. It took my mind from
Halsey, and the story we had heard the night before. The day,
however, was a long vigil, with every ring of the telephone full
of possibilities. Doctor Walker came up, some time just after
luncheon, and asked for me.
"Go down and see him," I instructed Gertrude. "Tell him I am
out--for mercy's sake don't say I'm sick. Find out what he
wants, and from this time on, instruct the servants that he is
not to be admitted. I loathe that man."
The Circular Staircase |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Rewards and Fairies by Rudyard Kipling: on the breast of the most gentlest, truest knight of his own house.
Some of us envied him,' said Sir Richard, and fell back to take
Swallow's bridle.
'Turn left here,' Puck called ahead of them from under an oak.
They ducked down a narrow path through close ash plantation.
The children hurried forward, but cutting a corner charged
full-abreast into the thorn-faggot that old Hobden was carrying
home on his back.
'My! My!' said he. 'Have you scratted your face, Miss Una?'
'Sorry! It's all right,' said Una, rubbing her nose. 'How many
rabbits did you get today?'
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