| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Montezuma's Daughter by H. Rider Haggard: for I loved them dearly and they loved me. Indeed, except for the
strain of their mother's blood, they were English boys and not
Indian, for I christened them all, and taught them our English
tongue and faith, and their mien and eyes were more English than
Indian, though their skins were dark. But I had no luck with these
dear children of mine, any more than I have had with that which
Lily bore me. Two of them died--one from a fever that all my skill
would not avail to cure, and another by a fall from a lofty cedar
tree, which he climbed searching for a kite's nest. Thus of the
three of them--since I do not speak now of that infant, my
firstborn, who perished in the siege--there remained to me only the
Montezuma's Daughter |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Z. Marcas by Honore de Balzac: this indispensable evil will be re-established among us when it is
proved that France leaves millions at the German tables.
This splendid Carnival brought us to utter penury, as it does every
student. We got rid of every object of luxury; we sold our second
coats, our second boots, our second waistcoats--everything of which we
had a duplicate, except our friend. We ate bread and cold sausages; we
looked where we walked; we had set to work in earnest. We owed two
months' rent, and were sure of having a bill from the porter for sixty
or eighty items each, and amounting to forty or fifty francs. We made
no noise, and did not laugh as we crossed the little hall at the
bottom of the stairs; we commonly took it at a flying leap from the
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Lesson of the Master by Henry James: meaning in it and a vague perspective of history which receded as
you advanced. Two facts Paul had particularly heeded. The first
of these was that he liked the measured mask much better at
inscrutable rest than in social agitation; its almost convulsive
smile above all displeased him (as much as any impression from that
source could), whereas the quiet face had a charm that grew in
proportion as stillness settled again. The change to the
expression of gaiety excited, he made out, very much the private
protest of a person sitting gratefully in the twilight when the
lamp is brought in too soon. His second reflexion was that, though
generally averse to the flagrant use of ingratiating arts by a man
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