| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Call of the Canyon by Zane Grey: its taint. She had lived only for herself. Conscience had awakened--but,
alas! too late. She had overthrown the sordid, self-seeking habit of life;
she had awakened to real womanhood; she had fought the insidious spell of
modernity and she had defeated it; she had learned the thrill of taking
root in new soil, the pain and joy of labor, the bliss of solitude, the
promise of home and love and motherhood. But she had gathered all these
marvelous things to her soul too late for happiness.
"Now it is answered," she declared aloud. "That is what has happened? . . .
And all that is past. . . . Is there anything left? If so what?"
She flung her query out to the winds of the desert. But the desert seemed
too gray, too vast, too remote, too aloof, too measureless. It was not
The Call of the Canyon |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Options by O. Henry: "'That's bad--that's bad,' says I. 'She was a mighty nice girl, and
as smart as you find em.
"High Jack seemed to take it hard. I guess he must have esteemed Miss
Blue Feather quite highly. I could see that he'd referred the matter
to the whiskey-jug. That was his weak point--and many another man's.
I've noticed that when a man loses a girl he generally takes to drink
either just before or just after it happens.
"From Washington we railroaded it to New Orleans, and there took a
tramp steamer bound for Belize. And a gale pounded us all down the
Caribbean, and nearly wrecked us on the Yucatan coast opposite a
little town without a harbor called Boca de Coacoyula. Suppose the
Options |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Lesson of the Master by Henry James: said to her: "I thought St. George was coming to see you to-day,
but he doesn't turn up."
For a moment he supposed she was going to cry "Comment donc? Did
you come here only to meet him?" But the next he became aware of
how little such a speech would have fallen in with any note of
flirtation he had as yet perceived in her. She only replied: "Ah
yes, but I don't think he'll come. He recommended me not to expect
him." Then she gaily but all gently added: "He said it wasn't
fair to you. But I think I could manage two."
"So could I," Paul Overt returned, stretching the point a little to
meet her. In reality his appreciation of the occasion was so
|
