| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Tales and Fantasies by Robert Louis Stevenson: unfriendly relics of humanity. From such a scene he would
return to snatch another hour or two of slumber, to repair
the abuses of the night, and refresh himself for the labours
of the day.
Few lads could have been more insensible to the impressions
of a life thus passed among the ensigns of mortality. His
mind was closed against all general considerations. He was
incapable of interest in the fate and fortunes of another,
the slave of his own desires and low ambitions. Cold, light,
and selfish in the last resort, he had that modicum of
prudence, miscalled morality, which keeps a man from
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Essays & Lectures by Oscar Wilde: days, when we have suffered dreadfully from the incursions of the
modern milliner, we hear ladies boast that they do not wear a dress
more than once. In the old days, when the dresses were decorated
with beautiful designs and worked with exquisite embroidery, ladies
rather took a pride in bringing out the garment and wearing it many
times and handing it down to their daughters - a process that
would, I think, be quite appreciated by a modern husband when
called upon to settle his wife's bills.
And how shall men dress? Men say that they do not particularly
care how they dress, and that it is little matter. I am bound to
reply that I do not think that you do. In all my journeys through
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Summer by Edith Wharton: wonderful, at first, than Harney's endearments were the
words that were a part of them. She had always thought
of love as something confused and furtive, and he made
it as bright and open as the summer air.
On the morrow of the day when she had shown him the way
to the deserted house he had packed up and left Creston
River for Boston; but at the first station he had
jumped on the train with a hand-bag and scrambled up
into the hills. For two golden rainless August weeks
he had camped in the house, getting eggs and milk from
the solitary farm in the valley, where no one knew him,
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