| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from My Antonia by Willa Cather: she and Anton in their wedding clothes, holding hands; her brother Ambrosch
and his very fat wife, who had a farm of her own, and who bossed her husband,
I was delighted to hear; the three Bohemian Marys and their large families.
`You wouldn't believe how steady those girls have turned out,'
Antonia remarked. `Mary Svoboda's the best butter-maker
in all this country, and a fine manager. Her children will
have a grand chance.'
As Antonia turned over the pictures the young Cuzaks stood behind her chair,
looking over her shoulder with interested faces. Nina and Jan,
after trying to see round the taller ones, quietly brought a chair,
climbed up on it, and stood close together, looking. The little boy forgot
My Antonia |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Elizabeth and her German Garden by Marie Annette Beauchamp: violets clinging to the handkerchief brought me to my senses,
and with a sudden impulse of scorn, the fine scorn for scent
of every honest Backfisch, I rolled it up into a ball and flung
it away into the bushes, where I daresay it is at this moment.
"Away with you," I cried, "away with you, symbol of conventionality,
of slavery, of pandering to a desire to please--away with you,
miserable little lace-edged rag!" And so young had I grown
within the last few minutes that I did not even feel silly.
As a Backfisch I had never used handkerchiefs--
the child of nature scorns to blow its nose--though for
decency's sake my governess insisted on giving me a clean
Elizabeth and her German Garden |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Lemorne Versus Huell by Elizabeth Drew Stoddard: in her which I had never before observed, and conferred with Mrs.
Roll on the matter. "She do be awake nights a deal, and that's the
reason," Mrs. Roll said. Her manner was the same in other respects.
She said she would not give me any thing for my wedding outfit, but
she paid my fare from Waterbury and back.
She could not spare me to go out, she told Mr. Uxbridge, and in
consequence I saw little of him while there.
In November we were married. Aunt Eliza was not at the wedding,
which was a quiet one. Mr. Uxbridge desired me to remain in
Waterbury till spring. He would not decide about taking a house in
New York till then; by that time his brother might return, and if
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