| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Distinguished Provincial at Paris by Honore de Balzac: The agreement was read over, signed in duplicate, and each of the
contracting parties took their copy. Lucien put the bills in his
pocket with unequaled satisfaction, and the four repaired to Fendant's
abode, where they breakfasted on beefsteaks and oysters, kidneys in
champagne, and Brie cheese; but if the fare was something of the
homeliest, the wines were exquisite; Cavalier had an acquaintance a
traveler in the wine trade. Just as they sat down to table the printer
appeared, to Lucien's surprise, with the first two proof-sheets.
"We want to get on with it," Fendant said; "we are counting on your
book; we want a success confoundedly badly."
The breakfast, begun at noon, lasted till five o'clock.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Collection of Antiquities by Honore de Balzac: have no child of my own. Something more to me than my own family
(if I had one) is involved--it is the Marquis d'Esgrignon's only
son. I have had the honor to be the Marquis' land steward ever
since I left the office to which his father sent me at his own
expense, with the idea of providing for me. The house which
nurtured me has passed through all the troubles of the Revolution.
I have managed to save some of their property; but what is it,
after all, in comparison with the wealth that they have lost? I
cannot tell you, Sorbier, how deeply I am attached to the great
house, which has been all but swallowed up under my eyes by the
abyss of time. M. le Marquis was proscribed, and his lands
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Polly of the Circus by Margaret Mayo: mad, little band scurried about the back yard, darted in and out
amongst the trees, then up the side of the wooded hill, just
beyond the church.
The leaves once more were red and yellow on the trees, but to-day
the air was warm, and the children were wearing their summer
dresses. Polly's lithe, girlish figure looked almost tall by
comparison with the children about her. She wore a plain, simple
gown of white, which Mandy had helped her to make. It had been
cut ankle- length, for Polly was now seventeen. Her quaint,
old-fashioned manner, her serious eyes, and her trick of knotting
her heavy, brown hair low on her neck, made her seem older.
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