| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Door in the Wall, et. al. by H. G. Wells: tensely her spirit pressed against the things she could not say.
He put his arms about her, he kissed her ear, and they sat for a
time in silence.
"If I were to consent to this?" he said at last, in a voice
that was very gentle.
She flung her arms about him, weeping wildly. "Oh, if you
would," she sobbed, "if only you would!"
For a week before the operation that was to raise him from his
servitude and inferiority to the level of a blind citizen Nunez
knew nothing of sleep, and all through the warm, sunlit hours,
while the others slumbered happily, he sat brooding or wandered
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Madame Firmiani by Honore de Balzac: forgive him, all provincials are distrustful.
"Well, monsieur?" said Madame Firmiani, giving him one of those clear,
lucid glances in which we men can never see anything because they
question us too much.
"Well, madame," returned the old man, "do you know what some one came
to tell me in the depths of my province? That my nephew had ruined
himself for you, and that the poor fellow was living in a garret while
you were in silk and gold. Forgive my rustic sincerity; it may be
useful for you to know of these calumnies."
"Stop, monsieur," said Madame Firmiani, with an imperative gesture; "I
know all that. You are too polite to continue this subject if I
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Moran of the Lady Letty by Frank Norris: out, out to the great gray Pacific that knew her and loved her,
and that shouted and called for her, and thundered in the joy of
her as she came to meet him like a bride to meet a bridegroom.
"Good-by, Moran!" shouted Wilbur as she passed. "Good-by, good-
by, Moran! You were not for me--not for me! The ocean is calling
for you, dear; don't you hear him? Don't you hear him? Good-by,
good-by, good-by!"
The schooner swept by, shot like an arrow through the swirling
currents of the Golden Gate, and dipped and bowed and courtesied
to the Pacific that reached toward her his myriad curling fingers.
They infolded her, held her close, and drew her swiftly, swiftly
|
