| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Madame Firmiani by Honore de Balzac: filling at the thought of his sister.
Just then, in spite of the distance between Octave's garret and the
street, the young man heard the sound of a carriage.
"There she is!" he cried; "I know her horses by the way they are
pulled up."
A few moments more, and Madame Firmiani entered the room.
"Ah!" she exclaimed, with a gesture of annoyance at seeing Monsieur de
Bourbonne. "But our uncle is not in the way," she added quickly,
smiling; "I came to humbly entreat my husband to accept my fortune.
The Austrian Embassy has just sent me a document which proves the
death of Monsieur Firmiani, also the will, which his valet was keeping
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Aeroplanes and Dirigibles of War by Frederick A. Talbot: operation requiring considerable judgment on the part of the
helmsman.
But in an aerial duel discretion is flung to the winds. The
pilot jambs his helm over in his keen struggle to gain the
superior position, causing the machine to groan and almost to
heel over. The stem stresses of war have served to reveal the
perfection of the modern aeroplane together with the remarkable
strength of its construction. In one or two instances, when a
victor has come to earth, subsequent examination has revealed the
enormous strains to which the aeroplane has been subjected. The
machine has been distorted; wires have been broken--wires which
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Golden Threshold by Sarojini Naidu: him, or to my mother, who always speaks to me in Hindustani. I
don't think I had any special hankering to write poetry as a
little child, though I was of a very fanciful and dreamy nature.
My training under my father's eye was of a sternly scientific
character. He was determined that I should be a great
mathematician or a scientist, but the poetic instinct, which I
inherited from him and also from my mother (who wrote some lovely
Bengali lyrics in her youth) proved stronger. One day, when I
was eleven, I was sighing over a sum in algebra: it WOULDN'T come
right; but instead a whole poem came to me suddenly. I wrote it
down.
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