|
The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from My Antonia by Willa Cather: At that moment the father came out of the hole in the bank.
He wore no hat, and his thick, iron-grey hair was brushed straight back
from his forehead. It was so long that it bushed out behind his ears,
and made him look like the old portraits I remembered in Virginia.
He was tall and slender, and his thin shoulders stooped.
He looked at us understandingly, then took grandmother's hand and bent
over it. I noticed how white and well-shaped his own hands were.
They looked calm, somehow, and skilled. His eyes were melancholy,
and were set back deep under his brow. His face was ruggedly formed,
but it looked like ashes--like something from which all the warmth
and light had died out. Everything about this old man was
 My Antonia |