| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Lily of the Valley by Honore de Balzac: towards heaven."
Struck by the tone of the successive intimations chance had sent me,
and which in this great concert of misfortunes were like a prelude of
mournful modulations to a funereal theme, the mighty cry of expiring
love, I cried out: "Surely you believe that this pure lily cut from
earth will flower in heaven?"
"You left her still a flower," he answered, "but you will find her
consumed, purified by the forces of suffering, pure as a diamond
buried in the ashes. Yes, that shining soul, angelic star, will issue
glorious from the clouds and pass into the kingdom of the Light."
As I pressed the hand of the good evangelist, my heart overflowing
The Lily of the Valley |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The United States Constitution: State and Citizens of another State;--between Citizens of different States;
--between Citizens of the same State claiming Lands under Grants of
different States, and between a State, or the Citizens thereof,
and foreign States, Citizens or Subjects.
In all cases affecting Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls,
and those in which a State shall be Party, the supreme Court shall have
original Jurisdiction. In all the other Cases before mentioned, the
supreme Court shall have appellate Jurisdiction, both as to Law and Fact,
with such Exceptions, and under such Regulations as the Congress shall make.
The Trial of all Crimes, except in Cases of Impeachment, shall be by Jury;
and such Trial shall be held in the State where the said Crimes shall
The United States Constitution |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Chance by Joseph Conrad: good mile off by that time, trying to discover in the village shops
a piece of eatable cake. The pluck of women! The optimism of the
dear creatures!
And she managed to find something which looked eatable. That's all
I know as I had no opportunity to observe the more intimate effects
of that comestible. I myself never eat cake, and Mrs. Fyne, when
she arrived punctually, brought with her no appetite for cake. She
had no appetite for anything. But she had a thirst--the sign of
deep, of tormenting emotion. Yes it was emotion, not the brilliant
sunshine--more brilliant than warm as is the way of our discreet
self-repressed, distinguished, insular sun, which would not turn a
Chance |
