|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Les Miserables by Victor Hugo:
the sixty thousand men who had fallen on the field of Waterloo
were quietly rotting, and something of their peace was shed abroad
over the world. The Congress of Vienna made the treaties in 1815,
and Europe called this the Restoration.
This is what Waterloo was.
But what matters it to the Infinite? all that tempest, all that cloud,
that war, then that peace? All that darkness did not trouble
for a moment the light of that immense Eye before which a grub
skipping from one blade of grass to another equals the eagle
soaring from belfry to belfry on the towers of Notre Dame.
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Secret Adversary by Agatha Christie:
urbane to the last degree.
"There was a man I shot once in Arizona----" he began cheerfully.
At the end of the hour's run the unfortunate Kramenin was more
dead than alive. In succession to the anecdote of the Arizona
man, there had been a tough from 'Frisco, and an episode in the
Rockies. Julius's narrative style, if not strictly accurate, was
Slowing down, the chauffeur called over his shoulder that they
were just coming into Gatehouse. Julius bade the Russian direct
them. His plan was to drive straight up to the house. There
Kramenin was to ask for the two girls. Julius explained to him
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Muse of the Department by Honore de Balzac:
flash of tenderness which gilds the gleam of a woman's eye when
prudence is cast to the winds, and she is fairly carried away. Dinah
paid no more heed to her husband's hint to her to observe the
proprieties than Lousteau had done to Dinah's significant warnings on
the day of his arrival.
Any other man than Bianchon would have been surprised at Lousteau's
immediate success; but he was so much the doctor, that he was not even
nettled at Dinah's marked preference for the newspaper-rather than the
prescription-writer! In fact, Dinah, herself famous, was naturally
more alive to wit than to fame. Love generally prefers contrast to
similitude. Everything was against the physician--his frankness, his
The Muse of the Department