| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Land of Footprints by Stewart Edward White: and sturdily built, carried himself very erect, and moved with a
concentrated and vigorous purposefulness. His countenance might
be described as pleasing but not handsome, of a dark chocolate
brown, with the broad nose of the negro, but with a firm mouth,
high cheekbones, and a frowning intentness of brow that was very
fine. When you talked to him he looked you straight in the eye.
His own eyes were shaded by long, soft, curling lashes behind
which they looked steadily and gravely-sometimes fiercely-on
the world. He rarely smiled-never merely in understanding or for
politeness' sake-and never laughed unless there was something
really amusing. Then he chuckled from deep in his chest, the most
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Twelve Stories and a Dream by H. G. Wells: structures heavier than air, propelled and kept up by heavy engines
and for the most part smashing at the first descent. But, neglecting
the fact that the inevitable final collapse rendered them impossible,
the weight of the flying machines gave them this theoretical
advantage, that they could go through the air against a wind,
a necessary condition if aerial navigation was to have any practical
value. It is Filmer's particular merit that he perceived the way
in which the contrasted and hitherto incompatible merits of balloon
and heavy flying machine might be combined in one apparatus,
which should be at choice either heavier or lighter than air.
He took hints from the contractile bladders of fish and the pneumatic
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald: sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. She was gone,
definitely, finally gone. Until now he had half unconsciously
cherished the hope deep in his heart that some day she would need
him and send for him, cry that it had been a mistake, that her
heart ached only for the pain she had caused him. Never again
could he find even the sombre luxury of wanting hernot this
Rosalind, harder, oldernor any beaten, broken woman that his
imagination brought to the door of his fortiesAmory had wanted
her youth, the fresh radiance of her mind and body, the stuff
that she was selling now once and for all. So far as he was
concerned, young Rosalind was dead.
This Side of Paradise |
