| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Cousin Pons by Honore de Balzac: the Presidente laid stress upon the recent sacrifices which she and
her husband had been compelled to make in order to marry Cecile to
Viscount Popinot, and asked the old man how he could bar his eldest
son's way to the highest honors of the magistracy, when such honors
were only to be had by those who made themselves a strong position in
parliament. Her husband would know how to take up such a position, he
would make himself feared by those in office, and so on and so on.
"They do nothing for you unless you tighten a halter round their necks
to loosen their tongues," said she. "They are ungrateful. What do they
not owe to Camusot! Camusot brought the House of Orleans to the throne
by enforcing the ordinances of July."
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from In a German Pension by Katherine Mansfield: 'marked' if you immediately retired to the house at their approach, after
sitting here alone with me in the twilight. You know this world. Yes, you
know it as I do."
I shrugged my shoulders, remarking with one eye that while the Professor
had been talking the Godowskas had trailed across the lawn towards us.
They confronted the Herr Professor as he stood up.
"Good-evening," quavered Frau Godowska. "Wonderful weather! It has given
me quite a touch of hay fever!" Fraulein Godowska said nothing. She
swooped over a rose growing in the embryo orchard then stretched out her
hand with a magnificent gesture to the Herr Professor. He presented me.
"This is my little English friend of whom I have spoken. She is the
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Hidden Masterpiece by Honore de Balzac: "Nothing. Can you?"
"No."
The two painters drew back, leaving the old man absorbed in ecstasy,
and tried to see if the light, falling plumb upon the canvas at which
he pointed, had neutralized all effects. They examined the picture,
moving from right to left, standing directly before it, bending,
swaying, rising by turns.
"Yes, yes; it is really a canvas," cried Frenhofer, mistaking the
purpose of their examination. "See, here is the frame, the easel;
these are my colors, my brushes." And he caught up a brush which he
held out to them with a naive motion.
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