| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Heritage of the Desert by Zane Grey: a mad race around the corral. The roan ran with him nose to nose. When
Silvermane saw he could not shake him, he opened his jaws, rolled back
his lip in an ugly snarl, his white teeth glistening, and tried to bite.
But the Indian's moccasined foot shot up under the stallion's ear and
pressed him back. Then the roan hugged Silvermane so close that half the
time the Navajo virtually rode two horses. But for the rigidity of his
arms, and the play and sudden tension of his leg-muscles, the Indian's
work would have appeared commonplace, so dexterous was he, so perfectly
at home in his dangerous seat. Suddenly he whooped and August Naab
hauled back the gate, and the two horses, neck and neck, thundered out
upon the level stretch.
The Heritage of the Desert |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Lost Princess of Oz by L. Frank Baum: yet," said Betsy Bobbin, "but the Scarecrow once told me it is the
prettiest country in all Oz."
"I'd like to go, too," added Trot.
"All right," said Dorothy. "I'll go and ask Ozma. Perhaps she will
let us take the Sawhorse and the Red Wagon, which would be much nicer
for us than having to walk all the way. This Land of Oz is a pretty
big place when you get to all the edges of it."
So she jumped up and went along the halls of the splendid palace until
she came to the royal suite, which filled all the front of the second
floor. In a little waiting room sat Ozma's maid, Jellia Jamb, who was
busily sewing. "Is Ozma up yet?" inquired Dorothy.
The Lost Princess of Oz |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Ferragus by Honore de Balzac: two other windows resumed their ruddy glow. At this moment a voice
said, "Hi, there!" and the young man was conscious of a blow on his
shoulder.
"Why don't you pay attention?" said the rough voice of a workman,
carrying a plank on his shoulder. The man passed on. He was the voice
of Providence saying to the watcher: "What are you meddling with?
Think of your own duty; and leave these Parisians to their own
affairs."
The young man crossed his arms; then, as no one beheld him, he
suffered tears of rage to flow down his cheeks unchecked. At last the
sight of the shadows moving behind the lighted windows gave him such
Ferragus |
