|
The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from The Message by Honore de Balzac: the way among the trees.
I must make a full confession. I stopped behind the last shrub in
the avenue, pulled up my collar, rubbed my shabby hat and my
trousers with the cuffs of my sleeves, dusted my coat with the
sleeves themselves, and gave them a final cleansing rub one
against the other. I buttoned my coat carefully so as to exhibit
the inner, always the least worn, side of the cloth, and finally
had turned down the tops of my trousers over my boots,
artistically cleaned in the grass. Thanks to this Gascon toilet,
I could hope that the lady would not take me for the local rate
collector; but now when my thoughts travel back to that episode
|
