| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Kenilworth by Walter Scott: rein of the palfrey from the uncertain hold of the hesitating
young boor, flung him a small piece of money, and made amends for
lost time by riding briskly off without further parley. The lad
was still visible from the hill up which they were riding, and
Wayland, as he looked back, beheld him standing with his fingers
in his hair as immovable as a guide-post, and his head turned in
the direction in which they were escaping from him. At length,
just as they topped the hill, he saw the clown stoop to lift up
the silver groat which his benevolence had imparted. "Now this
is what I call a Godsend," said Wayland; "this is a bonny, well-
ridden bit of a going thing, and it will carry us so far till we
 Kenilworth |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Cousin Pons by Honore de Balzac: her about six francs a month, and she took charge of his linen,
washing, and mending. Altogether, his expenses amounted to sixty-six
francs per month (for he spent fifteen francs on tobacco), and sixty-
six francs multiplied by twelve produces the sum total of seven
hundred and ninety-two francs. Add two hundred and twenty francs for
rent, rates, and taxes, and you have a thousand and twelve francs.
Cibot was Schmucke's tailor; his clothes cost him on average a hundred
and fifty francs, which further swells the total to the sum of twelve
hundred. On twelve hundred francs per annum this profound philosopher
lived. How many people in Europe, whose one thought it is to come to
Paris and live there, will be agreeably surprised to learn that you
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Study of a Woman by Honore de Balzac: pass into the house, the porter stopped him, saying that Madame la
marquise was out. As he was getting back into his carriage the Marquis
de Listomere came home.
"Come in, Eugene," he said. "My wife is at home."
Pray excuse the marquis. A husband, however good he may be, never
attains perfection. As they went up the staircase Rastignac perceived
at least a dozen blunders in worldly wisdom which had, unaccountably,
slipped into this page of the glorious book of his life.
When Madame de Listomere saw her husband ushering in Eugene she could
not help blushing. The young baron saw that sudden color. If the most
humble-minded man retains in the depths of his soul a certain conceit
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