| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Touchstone by Edith Wharton: that most men would see in those letters merely their immense
literary value, their significance as documents. The personal
side doesn't count where there's so much else."
"Oh, we all know you haven't any principles," Mrs. Armiger
declared; and Alexa Glennard, lifting an indolent smile, said: "I
shall never write you a love-letter, Mr. Flamel."
Glennard moved away impatiently. Such talk was as tedious as the
buzzing of gnats. He wondered why his wife had wanted to drag him
on such a senseless expedition. . . . He hated Flamel's crowd--
and what business had Flamel himself to interfere in that way,
standing up for the publication of the letters as though Glennard
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The House of Dust by Conrad Aiken: Extend vain arms in a frozen gesture of protest . . .
A clock ticks softly; a gas-jet steadily whirs:
The pencil meets its shadow upon clear paper,
Voices are raised, a door is slammed. The lovers,
Murmuring in an adjacent room, grow silent,
The eaves make liquid music. . . .Hours have passed,
And nothing changes, and everything is changed.
Exultation is dead, Beauty is harlot,--
And walks the streets. The thing I strongly seized
Has turned to darkness, and darkness rides my heart.
If you could solve this darkness you would have me.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Sons of the Soil by Honore de Balzac: day of all grains, rye, barley, wheat, all good to grind.
The two cows, led to the roadside by the youngest girl, always managed
to stray into the meadows of Les Aigues; but as, if it ever chanced
that some too flagrant trespass compelled the keepers to take notice
of it, the children were either whipped or deprived of a coveted
dainty, they had acquired such extraordinary aptitude in hearing the
enemy's footfall that the bailiff or the park-keeper of Les Aigues was
very seldom able to detect them. Besides, the relations of those
estimable functionaries with Tonsard and his wife tied a bandage over
their eyes. The cows, held by long ropes, obeyed a mere twitch or a
special low call back to the roadside, knowing very well that, the
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