| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Crisis in Russia by Arthur Ransome: war, has gone a very long way towards completion. We
have built the station in the Ryezan Government, on the
Shadul peat mosses, about 110 versts from Moscow.
Before the end of May that station should be actually at
work. (It was completed, opened and partially destroyed by
a gigantic fire.) Another station at Kashira in the Tula
Government (on the Oka), using the small coal produced
in the Moscow coalfields, will be at work before the autumn.
This year similar stations are being built at
Ivano-Voznesensk and at Nijni-Novgorod. Also, with a
view to making the most economic use of what we already
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Madame Firmiani by Honore de Balzac: were as many Madame Firmianis as there are species in society, or
sects in Catholicism. Frightful reflection! we are all like
lithographic blocks, from which an indefinite number of copies can be
drawn by criticism,--the proofs being more or less like us according
to a distribution of shading which is so nearly imperceptible that our
reputation depends (barring the calumnies of friends and the
witticisms of newspapers) on the balance struck by our criticisers
between Truth that limps and Falsehood to which Parisian wit gives
wings.
Madame Firmiani, like other noble and dignified women who make their
hearts a sanctuary and disdain the world, was liable, therefore, to be
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Reign of King Edward the Third by William Shakespeare: All which, though distant yet, conspire in one,
To leave a desolation where they come.
Fly therefore, Citizens, if you be wise,
Seek out some habitation further off:
Here is you stay, your wives will be abused,
Your treasure shared before your weeping eyes;
Shelter you your selves, for now the storm doth rise.
Away, away; me thinks I hear their drums:--
Ah, wretched France, I greatly fear thy fall;
Thy glory shaketh like a tottering wall.
[Exeunt.]
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