| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Son of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs: was not as you or I.
There was a good twelve inches of space between the broad
back of the black and the frame of the doorway. Could Korak
pass through behind the savage warrior without detection?
The light that fell upon the glistening ebony of the sentry's
black skin fell also upon the light brown of Korak's. Should one
of the many further down the street chance to look long in this
direction they must surely note the tall, light-colored, moving
figure; but Korak depended upon their interest in their own gossip to
hold their attention fast where it already lay, and upon the firelight
near them to prevent them seeing too plainly at a distance into the
The Son of Tarzan |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from An Historical Mystery by Honore de Balzac: CHAPTER XVII
THE TRIAL
There are but few localities in France where Law derives from outward
appearance the dignity which ought always to accompany it. Yet it
surely is, after religion and royalty, the greatest engine of society.
Everywhere, even in Paris, the meanness of its surroundings, the
wretched arrangement of the courtrooms, their barrenness and want of
decoration in the most ornate and showy nation upon earth in the
matter of its public monuments, lessens the action of the law's mighty
power. At the farther end of some oblong room may be seen a desk with
a green baize covering raised on a platform; behind it sit the judges
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Memories and Portraits by Robert Louis Stevenson: benches. The raffish young gentleman in gloves must measure his
scholarship with the plain, clownish laddie from the parish school.
They separate, at the session's end, one to smoke cigars about a
watering-place, the other to resume the labours of the field beside
his peasant family. The first muster of a college class in
Scotland is a scene of curious and painful interest; so many lads,
fresh from the heather, hang round the stove in cloddish
embarrassment, ruffled by the presence of their smarter comrades,
and afraid of the sound of their own rustic voices. It was in
these early days, I think, that Professor Blackie won the affection
of his pupils, putting these uncouth, umbrageous students at their
|
