| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Edition of The Ambassadors by Henry James: could bring her personally. "I wish SHE could hear you!"
"Mrs. Newsome?"
"No--not Mrs. Newsome; since I understand you that it doesn't
matter now what Mrs. Newsome hears. Hasn't she heard
everything?"
"Practically--yes." He had thought a moment, but he went on. "You
wish Madame de Vionnet could hear me?"
"Madame de Vionnet." She had come back to him. "She thinks just
the contrary of what you say. That you distinctly judge her."
He turned over the scene as the two women thus placed together for
him seemed to give it. "She might have known--!"
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Muse of the Department by Honore de Balzac: public morality; that he insults himself when he can find no one else
to insult.--None but the son of a provincial citizen imported from
Sancerre to become a poet, but who is only the /bravo/ of some
contemptible magazine, could ever have sent out such a circular
letter, as you must allow, monsieur. This is a document indispensable
to the archives of the age.--To-day Lousteau flatters me, to-morrow he
may ask for my head.--Excuse me, I forgot you were a judge.
"I have gone through a passion for a lady, a great lady, as far
superior to Madame de la Baudraye as your fine feeling, monsieur, is
superior to Lousteau's vulgar retaliation; but I would have died
rather than utter her name. A few months of her airs and graces cost
 The Muse of the Department |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Gettysburg Address by Abraham Lincoln: Now we are engaged in a great civil war. . .testing whether
that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated. . .
can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war.
We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place
for those who here gave their lives that this nation might live.
It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate. . .we cannot consecrate. . .
we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead,
who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power
to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember,
what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.
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