| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Glimpses of the Moon by Edith Wharton: "You mean: Nat and Grace may after all be having the best of
it?"
"How can I say, when I've told you I see all the sides? Of
course," Susy added hastily, " I couldn't live as they do for a
week. But it's wonderful how little it's dimmed them."
"Certainly Nat was never more coruscating. And she keeps it up
even better." He reflected. "We do them good, I daresay."
"Yes--or they us. I wonder which?"
After that, he seemed to remember that they sat a long time
silent, and that his next utterance was a boyish outburst
against the tyranny of the existing order of things, abruptly
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Vision Splendid by William MacLeod Raine: from this number be select a committee of five to sift thoroughly
the allegations;
(2) That the meetings of the committee be held in secret, no
members of the press being admitted, and that those composing it
pledge themselves never to divulge the names of any witnesses who
may appear to give evidence;
(3) That the _Herald,_ the _Advocate,_ and the _World_ severally
agree to print on the front page for a week the findings of the
committee as soon as received and exactly as received, without any
editorial or other comment whatsoever.
By the decision of this committee Jefferson Farnum pledges himself
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Sarrasine by Honore de Balzac: head for lovers and repellent attitudes for husbands. The exclamation
of the card-players at every unexpected /coup/, the jingle of gold,
mingled with music and the murmur of conversation; and to put the
finishing touch to the vertigo of that multitude, intoxicated by all
the seductions the world can offer, a perfume-laden atmosphere and
general exaltation acted upon their over-wrought imaginations. Thus,
at my right was the depressing, silent image of death; at my left the
decorous bacchanalia of life; on the one side nature, cold and gloomy,
and in mourning garb; on the other side, man on pleasure bent. And,
standing on the borderland of those two incongruous pictures, which
repeated thousands of times in diverse ways, make Paris the most
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