The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Death of the Lion by Henry James: to do; reminding me, however, that the first lesson of his
greatness has been precisely that he can't do what he likes. Mrs.
Wimbush would never forgive him if he should leave her before the
Princess has received the last hand. When I hint that a violent
rupture with our hostess would be the best thing in the world for
him he gives me to understand that if his reason assents to the
proposition his courage hangs woefully back. He makes no secret of
being mortally afraid of her, and when I ask what harm she can do
him that she hasn't already done he simply repeats: 'I'm afraid,
I'm afraid! Don't enquire too closely,' he said last night; 'only
believe that I feel a sort of terror. It's strange, when she's so
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Prince Otto by Robert Louis Stevenson: be happy like the flowers, if we can be. It is because you could,
that I have always secretly admired you. Cling to that trade;
believe me, it is the right one. Be happy, be idle, be airy. To
the devil with all casuistry! and leave the state to Gondremark, as
heretofore. He does it well enough, they say; and his vanity enjoys
the situation.'
'Gotthold,' cried Otto, 'what is this to me? Useless is not the
question; I cannot rest at uselessness; I must be useful or I must
be noxious - one or other. I grant you the whole thing, prince and
principality alike, is pure absurdity, a stroke of satire; and that
a banker or the man who keeps an inn has graver duties. But now,
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Agnes Grey by Anne Bronte: degree, to have seen how dull and dissatisfied she was throughout
that week (the greater part of it, at least), for lack of her usual
source of excitement; and how often she regretted having 'used him
up so soon,' like a child that, having devoured its plumcake too
hastily, sits sucking its fingers, and vainly lamenting its
greediness.
At length I was called upon, one fine morning, to accompany her in
a walk to the village. Ostensibly she went to get some shades of
Berlin wool, at a tolerably respectable shop that was chiefly
supported by the ladies of the vicinity: really - I trust there is
no breach of charity in supposing that she went with the idea of
 Agnes Grey |