| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Soul of the Far East by Percival Lowell: the plum-tree is already blossoming again.
Even from so imperfectly gathered a garland it will be seen that the
Japanese do not lack for opportunities to admire, nor do they turn
coldly away from what they are given. Indeed, they may be said to
live in a chronic state of flower-fever; but in spite of the vast
amount of admiration which they bestow on plants, it is not so much
the quantity of that admiration as the quality of it which is
remarkable. The intense appreciation shown the subject by the Far
Oriental is something whose very character seems strange to us, and
when in addition we consider that it permeates the entire people
from the commonest coolie to the most aesthetic courtier, it becomes
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Ten Years Later by Alexandre Dumas: one, "if I had not to speak to Monsieur d'Artagnan."
"Who is that?" said D'Artagnan, looking into the darkness.
"I, Monsieur d'Artagnan."
"Heaven forgive me, if that is not Monsieur Baisemeaux's
voice."
"It is, monsieur."
"What are you doing in the courtyard, my dear Baisemeaux?"
"I am waiting your orders, my dear Monsieur d'Artagnan."
"Wretch that I am," thought D'Artagnan; "true, you have been
told, I suppose, that some one was to be arrested, and have
come yourself, instead of sending an officer?"
Ten Years Later |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Recruit by Honore de Balzac: there was always in her bearing, in her voice, a sort of looking
forward to some unknown future, as in girlhood. The most insensible
man would find himself in love with her, and yet be restrained by a
sort of respectful fear, inspired by her courtly and polished manners.
Her soul, naturally noble, but strengthened by cruel trials, was far
indeed from the common run, and men did justice to it. Such a soul
necessarily required a lofty passion; and the affections of Madame de
Dey were concentrated on a single sentiment,--that of motherhood. The
happiness and pleasure of which her married life was deprived, she
found in the passionate love she bore her son. She loved him not only
with the pure and deep devotion of a mother, but with the coquetry of
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