| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Call of the Canyon by Zane Grey: off. And there, feeling dirty and tired, and slowly wearing to the old
depression, she composed herself to wait.
Suddenly she heard the clip-clop of hoofs. "There! that's Glenn," she
cried, gladly, and rising, she ran to the door.
She saw a big bay horse bearing a burly rider. He discovered her at the
same instant, and pulled his horse.
"Ho! Ho! if it ain't Pretty Eyes!" he called out, in gay, coarse voice.
Carley recognized the voice, and then the epithet, before her sight
established the man as Haze Ruff. A singular stultifying shock passed over
her.
"Wal, by all thet's lucky!" he said, dismounting. "I knowed we'd meet some
The Call of the Canyon |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Travels with a Donkey in the Cevenne by Robert Louis Stevenson: came one of the monks, a little brown fellow, as lively as a grig,
and with an Italian accent, who threw himself at once into the
contention, but in a milder and more persuasive vein, as befitted
one of these pleasant brethren. Look at HIM, he said. The rule
was very hard; he would have dearly liked to stay in his own
country, Italy - it was well known how beautiful it was, the
beautiful Italy; but then there were no Trappists in Italy; and he
had a soul to save; and here he was.
I am afraid I must be at bottom, what a cheerful Indian critic has
dubbed me, 'a faddling hedonist,' for this description of the
brother's motives gave me somewhat of a shock. I should have
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Wife, et al by Anton Chekhov: For that I must die like a man. If death is really a thing to
dread, I must meet it as a teacher, a man of science, and a
citizen of a Christian country ought to meet it, with courage and
untroubled soul. But I am spoiling the end; I am sinking, I fly
to you, I beg for help, and you tell me 'Sink; that is what you
ought to do.' "
But here there comes a ring at the front-door. Katya and I
recognize it, and say:
"It must be Mihail Fyodorovitch."
And a minute later my colleague, the philologist Mihail
Fyodorovitch, a tall, well-built man of fifty, clean-shaven, with
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