| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Voyage to Abyssinia by Father Lobo: been taken, which, whether justifiable or not, shall be fairly
confessed; and let the judicious part of mankind pardon or condemn
them.
In the first part the greatest freedom has been used in reducing the
narration into a narrow compass, so that it is by no means a
translation but an epitome, in which, whether everything either
useful or entertaining be comprised, the compiler is least qualified
to determine.
In the account of Abyssinia, and the continuation, the authors have
been followed with more exactness, and as few passages appeared
either insignificant or tedious, few have been either shortened or
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from My Antonia by Willa Cather: Of all the strange, uprooted people among the first settlers,
those two men were the strangest and the most aloof.
Their last names were unpronounceable, so they were called
Pavel and Peter. They went about making signs to people,
and until the Shimerdas came they had no friends.
Krajiek could understand them a little, but he had cheated
them in a trade, so they avoided him. Pavel, the tall one,
was said to be an anarchist; since he had no means of imparting
his opinions, probably his wild gesticulations and his generally
excited and rebellious manner gave rise to this supposition.
He must once have been a very strong man, but now his
 My Antonia |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Cousin Pons by Honore de Balzac: that only reveal the depths of pain. The old pianist, you see,
possessed a genius for friendship, the tact of those who, having
suffered much, knew the customs of suffering.
Pons was never to take a walk again. From one illness he fell into
another. He was of a sanguine-bilious temperament, the bile passed
into his blood, and a violent liver attack was the result. He had
never known a day's illness in his life till a month ago; he had never
consulted a doctor; so La Cibot, with almost motherly care and
intentions at first of the very best, called in "the doctor of the
quarter."
In every quarter of Paris there is a doctor whose name and address are
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