| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Sons of the Soil by Honore de Balzac: the general in one of the three branches of the Troisville family,--
that of the viscount in the service of Russia ever since 1789, who had
returned to France in 1815. The viscount, poor as a younger son, had
married a Princess Scherbellof, worth about a million, but the arrival
of two sons and three daughters kept him poor. His family, ancient and
formerly powerful, now consisted of the Marquis de Troisville, peer of
France, head of the house and scutcheon, and two deputies, with
numerous offspring, who were busy, for their part, with the budget and
the ministries and the court, like fishes round bits of bread.
Therefore, when Montcornet was presented by Madame de Carigliano,--the
Napoleonic duchess, who was now a most devoted adherent of the
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Love and Friendship by Jane Austen: Why should this last disappointment hang so heavily on my
spirits? Why should I feel it more, why should it wound me
deeper than those I have experienced before? Can it be that I
have a greater affection for Willoughby than I had for his
amiable predecessors? Or is it that our feelings become more
acute from being often wounded? I must suppose my dear Belle
that this is the Case, since I am not conscious of being more
sincerely attached to Willoughby than I was to Neville, Fitzowen,
or either of the Crawfords, for all of whom I once felt the most
lasting affection that ever warmed a Woman's heart. Tell me then
dear Belle why I still sigh when I think of the faithless Edward,
Love and Friendship |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Human Drift by Jack London: bucked off, fallen over backward upon, and thrown out and run
over, on very numerous occasions, I had a mighty vigorous respect
for horses; but a wife's faith must be lived up to, and I went at
it.
King was a polo pony from St. Louis, and Prince a many-gaited
love-horse from Pasadena. The hardest thing was to get them to
dig in and pull. They rollicked along on the levels and galloped
down the hills, but when they struck an up-grade and felt the
weight of the breaking-cart, they stopped and turned around and
looked at me. But I passed them, and my troubles began. Milda
was fourteen years old, an unadulterated broncho, and in
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