| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Mosses From An Old Manse by Nathaniel Hawthorne: sympathy was not to be expected from Professor Baglioni.
The visitor chatted carelessly for a few moments about the gossip
of the city and the university, and then took up another topic.
"I have been reading an old classic author lately," said he, "and
met with a story that strangely interested me. Possibly you may
remember it. It is of an Indian prince, who sent a beautiful
woman as a present to Alexander the Great. She was as lovely as
the dawn and gorgeous as the sunset; but what especially
distinguished her was a certain rich perfume in her
breath--richer than a garden of Persian roses. Alexander, as was
natural to a youthful conqueror, fell in love at first sight with
Mosses From An Old Manse |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court by Mark Twain: who felt no enmity toward me would come forward and
pass before me they should see that only those who re-
mained behind would be struck dead. The procession
moved with a good deal of promptness. There were no
casualties to report, for nobody had curiosity enough
to remain behind to see what would happen.
I lost some time, now, for these big children, their
fears gone, became so ravished with wonder over my
awe-compelling fireworks that I had to stay there and
smoke a couple of pipes out before they would let me
go. Still the delay was not wholly unproductive, for
A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Wrecker by Stevenson & Osbourne: disappeared under oil-paintings gaudily framed. Many of these
were relics of the Latin Quarter, and I must do Pinkerton the
justice to say that none of them were bad, and some had
remarkable merit. They went off slowly but for handsome
figures; and their places were progressively supplied with the
work of local artists. These last it was one of my first duties to
review and criticise. Some of them were villainous, yet all
were saleable. I said so; and the next moment saw myself, the
figure of a miserable renegade, bearing arms in the wrong
camp. I was to look at pictures thenceforward, not with the eye
of the artist, but the dealer; and I saw the stream widen that
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